


But I ain't finished, I'm devoted

by Chyrstis



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 65
Words: 152,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/pseuds/Chyrstis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The years have not always been kind. The boss and her crew react, adapt, and change. (One-shots from SR1-IV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> While working on Take Two I got hit by a bunch of little ideas. The first few might be limited to SR1, but they're going to eventually cover all games and feature most (if not all) of the characters. The ones that have popped up more often than the others have shiny new tags now, but I do hope to get them all someday. 
> 
> **Pairings that pop up will also be added as things continue to develop.** Apologies for taking this long to get the tags down, but I do appreciate your patience! In the end, this collection is a way to fill in some of the blanks while also helping me get some characterizations and events down on paper. Hooray for brainstorming, right?
> 
> As a side note, expect someone to try to use the spears in Price's mansion at some point. It'll probably be Johnny.
> 
> Many, many thanks to hunnybadgerv and autumnyte for dealing with me throwing these at them at unsavory hours, and for finding all the wonderful errors that manage to slip by after the initial read. I don't know what I would've done without their help, so thank you both so much for helping these become stronger while also being amazingly kind and supportive. 
> 
> The general chronological order for the stories are as follows: 
> 
> 1\. Brand  
> 2\. Hit me  
> 3\. Earn your stripes  
> 4\. Learning the ropes  
> 5\. Show some spirit  
> 6\. Room for improvement  
> 7\. Rush  
> 8\. Cigarettes  
> 9\. Tell me more  
> 10\. Know your game  
> 11\. Nice wheels  
> 12\. Sing that jingle  
> 13\. The more you know  
> 14\. Flat call  
> 15\. Rumor has it  
> 16\. Slip  
> 17\. Snag  
> 18\. Got your back  
> 19\. Strike  
> 20\. Raise  
> 21\. Problem  
> 22\. Call  
> 23\. Suggestion  
> 24\. Bronze star for effort  
> 25\. Another for the list  
> 26\. Double or nothing  
> 27\. Timing's everything  
> 28\. Downtime  
> 29\. So it is  
> 30\. What's left  
> 31\. As you are  
> 32\. Out of place  
> 33\. Different  
> 34\. Foundations  
> 35\. Bluff  
> 36\. Blur  
> 37\. What you have  
> 38\. Something extra  
> 39\. Gray  
> 40\. Link  
> 41\. That old place  
> 42\. Follow  
> 43\. What comes after  
> 44\. Can't hold a tune (or your hand)  
> 45\. Deal or no deal  
> 46\. Close up  
> 47\. Simple enough  
> 48\. Next time  
> 49\. You call that a smile?  
> 50\. Sharing is caring  
> 51\. About that desk  
> 52\. What's a little hooky?  
> 53\. How (not) to stay on task  
> 54\. Worst case scenario - 1  
> 55\. Worst case scenario - 2  
> 56\. Perfect  
> 57\. Maybe it would  
> 58\. Coping  
> 59\. You shouldn't have  
> 60\. Belief  
> 61\. Real deal  
> 62\. Now, not later  
> 63\. Rise and shine  
> 64\. Show me  
> 65\. Lucky shot

“Yo, Sammy!” V gave a fistbump to one of the Saints standing by the side entrance. “You see Dex or Troy today?”

“Yeah, but I think Dex is tied up with the bossman. Troy’s somewhere inside. You got some shit to get done?”

“There’s always shit, Sam, but I’d rather tackle it now than have it tackle me later. Going to hit up FB tonight?”

“Hell yeah, girl. Catch you there?”

“You know it,” she said, grinning. “I’ll give you a call later once things are done.”

Things were looking pretty busy for an otherwise normal morning. Saints were moving in and out, all or most of them armed, and she hoped she could get in on the action as well. With all three gangs starting to take notice, the call for Saints to take up the cause was stronger than ever, and they needed their crew to stand tall. Hell, she needed to stand tall, and whenever she was left alone she always grew restless with nothing to do.

She found Troy near the back, sitting at a junky old table. Cigarette in hand, he waved once when he saw her, and she dragged over a chair to join him.

“Morning. Dex still with Julius?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t take much longer, but they’ve got a lot of stuff to cover.”

“Ooh. Think I’ll get to hear about any of it?”

“If they think you need to know,” he said. “Should still be plenty of work to throw your way, though.”

“Ugh. Got to deal with the suspense as always, then.” She fished around in the pockets of her hoodie and removed a crumpled cigarette pack. Upon opening it, only one stared back at her. “Fuck. This is not going to last me all day.”

Troy looked over and winced. “You lost count, didn’t you?”

“I guess. I didn’t think I was going through them that fast.” She put it in her mouth and didn’t bother lighting it. “Shit. I don’t even know how many I’m averaging a day any more. Used to barely go through a pack, and now they’re making a fortune off of me.”

“That’s how it starts, kid.”

She tried not to frown at the name, but always did. “Speaking from experience? Being my esteemed elder and all?”

He caught the dig and frowned back. “Comes with the territory. Give it a few years and you’ll start looking for excuses to talk about the good old days.”

“Troy, you’re what? Thirty? You’re not that much older than me.”

“I’m old enough,” he replied, going back to his cigarette.

Choosing to ignore that, she spun her cigarette between her fingers, and focused on searching for her lighter. She found it just as the group at the front split to reveal Johnny, and almost set the sleeve of her hoodie on fire when she realized he was coming their way. He always moved like he had a purpose, and V sat up a little straighter when he got close.

“Julius in?”

Troy gestured towards the back. “He’s with Dex. Carnales business.”

“Fucking A. Dex needs a damn time limit.” He raised his chin and glanced over the two of them. “Got a spare?”

“Afraid not,” she said, keeping her cigarette spinning. “Down to one.”

“Same here,” Troy added.

“For real? I don’t believe either of you motherfuckers for a second, but if that’s the case-” He reached forward and snatched hers right out of her hand. “you won’t mind me borrowing this, right?”

_Oh, he would. He would._ She shot forward and swiped at him. “Hey!”

“What? You weren’t using it.” Johnny popped the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. “And I don’t want Troy’s sloppy seconds.”

Troy raised his eyebrows up and down once, shrugging. “Your loss, man.”

She tried not to watch as Johnny took a drag off of it, but failed miserably. “Asshole. You owe me.”

“Right. Like you owe me for the Attrazione you wrecked a few days ago? I think we’re even,” he said, smirking as he wandered off towards the office.

V waited until he was out of sight to put her chin in her hand. The huff of air she let out barely brushed her bangs. “…Are you really out?”

Troy held up the rapidly disappearing cigarette and placed it back between his lips. “Didn’t have time to buy another pack this morning, so if you’re wondering if I have any, you’re looking at it.”

“Crap. I really should work on that.”

“Being prepared?” Troy smiled a bit, and leaned back in his chair. “Never did the scout thing, eh?”

“Not well.” She frowned and picked at the wood on the old table. “My business pitch needed work. They also had a problem with scouts that tried to eat the merch instead of selling it. Big fucking deal.”

Setting her head on her arms, she sighed deeply and stared a hole into the wall of the church. Troy watched her do this for a whole five minutes, each minute punctuated by a loud sigh. His fingers began tapping on the table, then stopped. “Getting desperate?”

“I would do damn near anything.”

“You really do need to work on your pitch, kid,” he said, giving her a look. “Too many people would take you up on that.”

She pretended to bat her eyes at him. “And you?”

His lips became a thin line, but he quickly relaxed. “I’m a perfect fucking gentleman.”

“Is that why you’re going to offer yours?”

The corner of his mouth curved up. “If you don’t mind my sloppy seconds.”

He handed it over, and the eager smile covering her face must’ve made her look ridiculous. “You amazing thing, you.” She inhaled and let out a smooth stream of smoke. “Not bad. I had an ex who used to smoke the worst off-brand cigarettes. Pretty damn gross. ”

“Why’d they keep on buying them?”

“Cheap. She was always out of money and had to settle for whatever came along, and you know how it is when you need a fix. They have one on hand, you borrow it for a few, and then hand it right back. You don’t complain, even if it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Besides, it was kinda sexy, you know?”

He kept an eye on her hand as it flicked at the ashes. “What?”

“Sharing,” she said, looking at his cigarette. “It’s really no different than sharing a beer, but there’s just a hint of something about it that drives me nuts. …Even if back then it was like kissing a skunk. ” V inhaled and tried to blow a smoke ring, the motion making her lips pop. The resulting ring fell apart fast. “Shit.”

“You’re choking on the last step.”

Her eyebrow went up. “Oh? You want to demonstrate?”

“Sure thing, kid,” he said, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He took it back and he produced a near perfect ring, following it up with a smaller one. “You’re doing something weird with your mouth.”

She had been biting her lip, but let it go and glared at him. “Says the expert.”

“It’s not even complicated. You’ve just got to be patient.”

“Jerk,” she teased, loving and hating the way he was making it look so easy. “You’ve got to teach me a few tricks.”

“I don’t do tricks. What does this look like? A magic show?”

“With your tongue pulling moves like that? Yeah.” …That did not come out like she meant it to. Troy’s odd look only made her flush harder as she let out a nervous laugh. “Um, yeah. Because that’s exactly what I should be focusing on right now. Right.” She folded her arms and stared at the entrance to the offices. “…Dex done yet?”

Troy chuckled. “Way to nail the recovery, V.”

“Shut up.”


	2. Deal or no deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's in that nice wide space between SR2 and the Third. Went back and added some extra details to the end, because I wasn't entirely satisfied with it the first time around.

V pushed open the doors to the police department and slapped her hands down on the receptionist’s desk. “Hi. I’d like to make an appointment, please.”

The woman gaped up at her. “…With?”

“The chief. That would be amazing.”

She spent fifteen minutes handcuffed in a chair after that, her legs crossed and perched on the flimsy interrogation table.

It wasn’t far off from what she expected.

The way the cops were hovering was annoying as hell, however, and she made of a game of trying to spook the one to her right. His hand kept going to his gun and she wished he’d make up his mind already.

She was in the process of trying to blow him a kiss when the door opened and Troy stepped in. The look of disapproval crossing his face was top-notch. On the other hand, he didn’t seem surprised to see her at all, and she quickly assumed a more innocent position.

It sure was tough to make it plausible with her hands behind her back, and three cops ready to point their weapons at her head, though.

“Hey, Chief. Your welcome wagon could use a little work.”

“Did you expect anything else?” he asked, folding his arms.

She let her eyes wander off to the side. “No…but I’m not exactly covered in weapons here.”

Mr. Itchy Trigger Finger had a comment for that. “No guns, but three knives, sir.”

“Man, you must really want that Christmas bonus,” V muttered.

Troy sighed. “Get the cuffs off.”

The cops surrounding her looked at each other then at him. “But, sir-”

“Remove them and step outside. I’ve got it from here.”

“Sir, she’s the-”

“Leader of the Saints. Yeah, I’m pretty damn aware of that,” Troy snapped. “Now learn to take a fucking order and step outside.”

They undid her handcuffs and left, leaving only the two of them in the blank, beige room. Troy made a motion to someone on the other side of the glass and sat down.

She rubbed her wrists and twisted the chair to the side to lean an arm on the back of it. With her hands now freed, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Got a light?” she asked, slipping one between her lips.

His rigid posture didn’t relax one bit. “What do you want?”

“Okay, guess not.” She pulled out her lighter and lit it, keeping her eyes on him. “We haven’t exactly been big on social calls over the last few months or so, eh?”

“No.”

“And the stint with Fuzz was kinda tacky. That didn’t help, did it?”

“What do you want, V?” he asked again, his tone one-hundred percent cop. She wondered if she’d ever get used to that.

She inhaled and exhaled, blowing the smoke out of the side of her mouth. “I want to cooperate.”

He placed his arms on his desk and leaned forward. “Cooperate?”

“Yeah, cooperate. I don’t want to do this anymore. This weird tango with the cops. Johnny probably feels differently, but…he’s Johnny. Nothing would make him happier than a department-sized weenie roast. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Anyway, I know we’ve come to some sort of strange cease fire for a while now, but I want to make it official. Keep up with the proper documentation and all that. So, we’ll pay you a certain amount a month, whatever that is we can go over no problem, and we’ll continue to go about our daily lives. Simple, easy, works well for everyone.”

Troy gave her a bitter smile. “You’re talking about a consolation payment?”

She twirled the cigarette between her fingers and quirked the side of her mouth up. “A ‘sorry for dealing with all of my shit’ payment, actually. The department could use the money, and we could use the space.”

“To go back to building and dealing?” Troy asked, skeptical as always.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you know what we currently deal in right now, aside from the cleanest drugs on the market? Clothing lines. Bobbleheads. A fucking energy drink. Shaundi’s going into TV. Gat speaks to _children._ Still don’t know how Pierce managed to swing that, but that’s another story. The point is, that you could almost count us as people. Not just bangers, but people.”

“Normal functioning members of society?”

“Nah,” V said, ignoring the sarcastic jibe, “but we’re a part of the city now. Hell, even Ultor’s decided that out of all the colors to hang, purple might not be so bad. So, what do you say?”

Troy removed his hat and ran a hand over his face. “You’re a piece of work, V.”

“Marble, or one step short of the local yard flamingo?”

“I don’t even fucking know.”

Lowering his hand, he met her eyes again and V began to tap her fingers on her thigh. She sighed and wished this wasn’t as difficult as they were both making it. “This isn’t an ultimatum.”

“But I don’t have a choice either. Not with Ultor on one end and you on the other.”

“It’s not-” She bit down on the inside of her cheek and took in a deep breath. “Don’t look at it that way. I’m not asking you to make huge changes, got it? The money’s just a little something to deal with damage control. The deal itself is to help cut down on everything else. I’ll even try to ask Johnny to tone it down a little.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Okay, so no kumbaya, but how about I come at this another way. Johnny loves problems that help him get his hands dirty. I do too. How many of those problems end up walking out the courthouse on a bad week? We’ll take care of those things free of charge.”

“As our own friendly neighborhood contract killers? I’ll pass. We can handle it.”

“No, you can’t. You know what I enjoy more than anything? Giving someone exactly what they deserve.” _Maybe even twisting the knife a little as well._ “Half the people who walk end up pulling the same shit that got them thrown in jail to begin with. I’m just saying that if something ends up happening to them, would it really be a bad thing?”

He refused to answer.

V remembered something he had said to her a long time ago, back when she’d started. How you couldn’t hesitate when dealing with guys like that. They’d kill you, and remorse would be the last thing on their minds. The temptation to throw that statement back at him was unbearable. “Okay, so saying it out loud’s a dealbreaker. Fine. The other thing’s still on the table, though. What do you say?”

“No.”

“As for the Johnny thing, maybe I can distract him with more time at the demolition derby, or build a catapault-wait, what?”

Troy shook his head slowly. “No deal.”

He grabbed his hat and V watched him leave, stupefied by his dismissal. When the door closed behind him it opened seconds later, revealing Mr. Enthusiastic. He appeared smug, and she sneered at him. “I'm here to escort you out.”

“Oh, joy,” she said, standing up. “Lead the way.”

He didn't re-cuff her, which was a shame because breaking his nose would've been satisfying. He did, however, escort her off of the property, and refused to leave until she was in her car and driving off down the street. Cranking up the volume, she blared the loudest rock music she could manage and flashed him the finger as she sped by.

When the station was not even a blink in her mirror, she killed the radio and hit the steering wheel with her hand. “Fuck. Should've known better,” she muttered, irritated at the sting of disappointment still present.

It hadn't been her best idea, but she'd tried. At least she had that.

Her phone began ringing, and she pulled it out to check the ID. She couldn't resist the smile that followed. “Hey. It's because I came on a bit too strong with the justice talk, right?”

“ _You were damn near cheerful. Kinda puts people off,”_ Troy said, probably holed up in his office. _“Anyway, you want this to work?”_

V nodded. “Hell yeah.”

“ _Then I guess we’ve got a lot of shit to sort through, eh?”_


	3. Flat call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to SR1! I know I'm bugging Troy a lot, but the others will get their due. At least Dex is here this time around, right?

“She’s getting better.”

Troy scraped up whatever winnings Dex had left him and started putting the cards away. “Still doesn’t know how to bet worth a damn, though. Half the money she wins almost immediately goes back into the pot.”

“If she wants to keep what she earns she’ll get it. Maybe not now, but it’s got to get through to her sooner or later, right?” Dex opened the beer next to him, and nodded at the group of Saints walking by their table.

The game might’ve been done, but that didn’t mean that the night at Tee’N’Ay was over. They all had a few hours left in them, and Troy could still stand to put back a few more drinks.

Dex usually stayed sober, preferring to nurse a beer or two over the evening, but tonight he was a bit looser than usual. Which made him more talkative than usual. Troy was pretty okay with this, but he wasn’t sure what to file this information under yet.

The beer was half-empty when Dex spoke up again. “Funny how this is the thing she’s awful at.”

“Awful? I’ve seen worse. Most go for the driving first.”

Dex tilted his head to the side as he considered it. “Don’t know about that, man. Have you seen her work?”

“Seen her?” Troy dropped the cards and looked right at him. “I’ve been in the goddamn car with her. She can pull some wild stunts, but it takes years off of your life.”

Dex laughed. “Still gets shit done. She’s our top hijacker. You remember that story they did after the semi was hit, right? Nearly rolled it and crushed half the cars on the highway. Girl’s a menace.”

“She’s reckless. There’s a difference,” Troy said, tapping his cigarette on the ashtray. “Besides, it’s not like she hasn’t cleared out half the things on your fucking checklist.”

“True.” Dex took a drink of his beer and looked towards the stage. “And your girl’s done a hell of a lot to make the Carnales sweat.”

“…My girl?” It sounded even more ridiculous coming out of his mouth, and he gave Dex a wry grin. “Don’t recall her ever joining my crew officially. Think I’d remember that.”

“She sure as hell isn’t mine,” Dex said. “Wish she was. Dedication like that’s powerful.”

Troy put down his beer, and gave Dex a measured glance. “And dangerous. That’s why she’s Julius’s.”

Dex didn’t exactly meet his eye, but held up his beer in acknowledgment and tilted it back. “Also true. Probably a damn good thing she doesn’t favor Johnny, right?”

“Don’t even say things like that out loud. You’ll jinx us,” Troy joked.

“You’re not the one who has to plan around him. If he had his say half of downtown would’ve been blown off of the fucking map. The VKs have to be feeling the heat.”

“You know they are. They’re just doing a damn good job of acting like it’s nothing.”

Dex raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and went back to watching the stage. Troy heard familiar laughter behind him and he wondered if that was one reason why Dex was keeping such a close eye on it. “Think V might be up for another shot at that?”

“Another shot at what?”

“The VKs.”

Taking a long drag off of his cigarette, Troy exhaled and let the cig hang between his fingers. “Course she would.”

“Might want to borrow her once this finishes up then. Shouldn’t be too hard of a sell-” His words trailed off, and Dex’s expression went quickly from confusion to stunned recognition.

There was a whoop, and Troy turned around only to have something hit him in the face. He pulled the sweatshirt off of his head and kept his eyes closed for a second. He then cracked both open.

V was in the process of trying to spin around the pole, and stumbled, falling right onto her side. She giggled like crazy, and the stripper next to her knelt down to see how she was doing.

“Okay, party’s over,” Troy sighed, getting up to check on her. “Might want to save the business talk for tomorrow when she’s sober.”

“Want some help?” Dex started to get up also, no longer shocked but curious.

His response to that came fast. “Nah, I got it. Just got to get her off stage before some dipshit starts chucking hundreds at her. Thanks for coming out, man.”

“Sure thing,” Dex replied, sparing her one last glance. The one he gave him wasn’t as easy to read. “Just don’t let her drive.”

“No worries there,” he promised, holding up the keys that V had left on the table earlier. “Got to see if she can nail walking first.”

As of right now, that fact was debatable. V reached out an arm to him when Troy got close, rolling over to lie on her stomach. “Hey, Troy. Room’s spinning a bit.”

He did not remember walking by her hat. Or her shirt. The white tattoo on her shoulder stood out against her brown skin more than he remembered, and he wished he had another cigarette. The one he’d dropped was probably burning a hole in the carpet somewhere. “You didn’t go for the drink special, did you?”

“What? You mean the blue stuff?” He felt her hand tug at his belt. “Might’ve had at least one.”

“That’s one too many, V. The damn thing’s probably full of uppers.”

“Oh, hush.” She pushed herself up and the deep purple of her bra drew his eye against his better judgment. “I can be responsible. I know my limits.”

“Sure you do.”

He tried to grab her arm to help her get down, but she put it around his neck instead. “You know I do.”

“Sure you do,” Troy repeated, taking her in. She noticed this time and leaned in closer, her fingers playing with the back of his shirt. When her lips brushed his cheek he pulled back enough to gesture towards the floor, his throat dry. “Bet you can’t walk a straight line without serious help.”

“You’re on,” V said with a grin. She swung her feet out and hopped forward, collapsing into a heap on the floor. One of her arms went up and then hit the ground to steady herself. “I’m okay! Screwed up the landing, that’s all.”

The stripper that was still on stage raised her eyebrows. “Think you might need a hand there, hon.”

 _That’s a fucking understatement,_ Troy noted, before kneeling down to help her up. “Easy there. You don’t always have to take a flying leap.”

He slung her arm around his shoulders and let her lean on him as they stood up. “That wasn’t a leap. That was actually kinda awful.”

“You got to start somewhere,” he said, trying to keep an eye out for her clothes. They ambled back to his table, and she leaned against the edge as he helped her get her sweatshirt back on. “Wait here for a minute.”

She watched the zipper go up, her arms perched on the flat surface behind her. “Sure thing, boss.”

As he scooped up her hat and later her t-shirt, he strongly considered just pushing them into her hands and hailing her a taxi. It would be easier. It would be a hell of a lot easier, but being a dick to her wouldn’t ensure that she got home in one piece.

Troy popped her hat onto her head, and she flicked at the brim. “You’re the best.”

“So you say, kid.”

The word slipped out, half-reflex, half-defense. It was one of the few times that he wasn’t sure if he’d meant it or not, but it was too late to take it back.

V laughed once and wandered towards the door, swaying with every other step. When he tried to put a hand on her back she half-heartedly swatted at it. “No thanks, old man. This kid’s got it. Hasn’t lost it.”

She pitched forward when they got out the door, however, puking her guts out on the pavement. He managed to grab her hair and hat in one go, holding them back as far as possible.

After coughing a bit, she groaned. “Maybe not.”

“Close enough for horseshoes, V.”

“I guess.” Her hand scrubbed at her mouth and she gave him a knowing look. “At least now you don’t have to worry about me kissing you.”

Troy let her walk ahead, her hat still in his hand. “Guess not.”


	4. Real deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopping forward to SRIV now!

"Hey, come here for a second."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, but set his gun aside and hopped down from the weapons crates. V poked him hard in the arm, once, then twice. “Rock solid. Good. Still not a hallucination.”

"I could’ve told you that."

"Sure," she said, walking back down the hall towards the stairs, "but I like proof. At least I didn't try to grab your ass."

"There's always next time, right?" he threw back, grinning.

"Dream on, Johnny."

He shook his head and climbed back up. Next time could be a thing.

* * *

She poked him in the shoulder instead. He flinched, then turned an angry look on her. "What?"

He was in the middle of an intense pool game with Asha, and it seemed like his advantage was slipping. He'd never admit to it, but the agent was too anal to ignore any mistakes, like the last one he'd made scratching the shot.

V held up both hands in defense. The strange expression on her face disappeared fast. "Nothing, man. Just...checking."

Asha chuckled, and he swore under his breath as she got ready to take her turn. "You're falling fast, Mr. Gat."

"Bullshit. I've got you exactly where I want you." He turned back to V. "You, not so much. You want to talk or just go on poking the shit out of people?"

She whistled. "Someone's testy. I'll just exit stage right before I get shanked." Slipping out into the hall, she stuck her head back in. "Oh, and Asha? If you could thrash him, that would be amazing."

"I think I can manage that," she replied, smirking.

Asha won, but barely. V laughed at his scowl the next time he saw her, but he couldn't stay mad.

* * *

The next time she attempted to check was when they were both cleaning the alien weapons in the armory. He was wiping the damned peashooter down when she rested a hand on his bicep, playing with the fabric of his suit. It was enough to make him come to an immediate stop. "V?"

Her hand jerked back. "Shit, sorry."

He looked her over and she actually appeared embarrassed. It was fucking odd. "Still solid enough to pass?"

"Enough," she said with a small smile, reassembling her weapon. "I did consider going for your ass, but I don't feel like getting shot today."

"You wound me, boss," he said, grinning and more than a little disappointed. "I'd at least warn you first."

* * *

They're in the simulation after that, Zin surrounding them, along with more than a few large fires.

Getting as much height as possible, he stomped down hard, scattering everything into the air. V managed to duck around it, spinning before tossing a fireball, and made a clean landing next to him. Picking off the flying Zin had become a small competition between the two, and she picked off five before he could swing his pistol back to get the other four.

She punched the air. "Hah! Five to four!"

"Shit. Course you're going to win when you slip in to clean up my leftovers."

"Oh, is that the sound of a sore loser? Why I must be imagining things," she said, twirling her phasers before putting them both away. "I can't be hearing that from _the_ Johnny Gat."

"Fuck you, man. I've got ten bullets for the next ten Zin we find. And I bet I can kill them all before you get off a single shot."

The challenge was out and she was ready to take it. "You're so on."

They hit the nearest Zin gathering, some flashpoint down the way from where they had started. His gun was already out, but jerked up when she reached over and grabbed him. His ass, actually.

V killed two before he was able to wipe out the rest, looking satisfied the whole time. "Solid."

She sped off before he could come up with something to say to that.

* * *

He got his revenge later when she was playing against Asha. It was only a round into their pool game and V was measuring her shot, balancing the cue carefully on her fingertips.

He didn't wait for her to finish. The cue went for his head seconds after he slapped her ass, and when it broke against the wall he knew it was worth it.

And the fact that he wanted to see her red-faced and gasping again didn't hurt.

* * *

They were doing their usual dance with a warden, dodging back and forth while balls of energy hit the pavement. V's moves were good, usually one step ahead, but it did something strange. Recalculated, or some shit.

It caught her in the stomach and threw her like a fastball, pitching her to the side. When she collided with him, it wasn't an issue, but she was wearing that embarrassed look again. As if she was unsure how to address any of this, when it was really quite simple.

He decided to try to snap her out of it. “I know I'm hot stuff, boss, but swooning's new for you.”

“Oh, bite me,” she shot back, amused. “It's not my fault you're running around in purple spandex. Was that seriously your idea?”

He honestly didn't have a clue, but that didn't mean he had to admit it. “You know you want it.”

V pushed back at him, hiding a smile, and the warden roared nearby. The next blast sent both of them flying.

* * *

Later on, he was crouched on the ground, examining one of the simulation's generated weapons. It pulsed and shifted, drawing his attention long enough to distract him from the fingers brushing against the back of his neck. The soft touch made him tense.

His hand caught hers before she could remove it, and she tried to stay neutral. “Last time, I swear.”

“It's cool, boss.” He squeezed her hand and let it go. “Old habits.”

“Got a little too used to that one, though. Didn't want to.”

“Now you won't have to.”

The statement made her look away, and she went ahead. He gave her a minute before catching up.

* * *

Her hands were all over him. Not poking, not checking, but grabbing at him. Pulling him as close as possible while also tugging at his suit.

The zipper to hers was already broken, hanging around her navel, and he took the liberty of touching every exposed inch of her. Wasn't difficult with it half-pushed off of her shoulders, and he moved it down further as he kept on exploring.

He sucked hard on a spot on her neck, and she ran her fingers through his hair, biting back a moan. It slipped out when he ground his hips against her, and she met him for every movement. It made him want to rip the rest of the suit off of her.

“Solid enough for you?” he asked, growing harder by the second.

“You're awful,” she gasped, kissing him. “You're awful and I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Same here, V,” he murmured, holding her tightly. “Same here.”


	5. Raise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in SR1. Actually a bit NSFW towards the end if you're worried about dodging it.

This was the best hand that she had ever seen in her life.

At least she was sure it was. Her poker experience had seen more highs and lows than Stilwater's university crowd, so as she sighed and set it down she wasn't sure what to do with it.

Winning was the obvious pick, but even then it was hard to tell if it would work with the group surrounding her. They were often blank-faced or full of barbs, but tonight they were a bit more subdued. After the shoot out by the Carnales a few days before it was understandable.

It had thrown them off, but it hadn't broken them, something the Carnales had intended by sending one of the toughest motherfuckers in existence at them. The message sent back by their victory had to have caused waves, and now they were getting back into their old routine. Nothing said 'I don't give a shit' like poker, strippers, and good company.

Stu, on her right, was staring at his cards intently, likely wondering just what the hell had made its way into his hand. Luis on the other end seemed unhappy, and wrinkled his nose. Dee didn't even bother putting up a front. She set her cards down and drank, putting back another beer.

That left Troy, and he was tapping his cards against the table, lost in thought. He caught her looking over – he always did – and gestured towards her. “Bad hand?”

She took a careful pull of her cigarette and leaned back in her chair. “You're hoping I have one.”

“Not always.” He smiled. “Just most of the time.”

“Jerk,” she said, flipping her cards back up. “I'm never wishing you good luck ever again.”

Since Dex wasn't there he was the one to beat, but he'd taken it easy for most of the rounds that night. A few wins, a few losses, no giant payout.

It shouldn't have struck her as strange, but she was suspicious as hell as they kept spying on each other. One of her fingers had begun to play with a pigtail, and she did her best not to drop it when he glanced over.

“Stop being a tease, V,” Dee said from across the table. “You know it's your turn, right?”

She snapped out of it and the table snickered. Troy hid his grin behind his hand, and V knew she had to be blushing. “Shit. Why didn't someone kick me?”

“No guarantee I'd get the leg back,” Stu said, taking the punch in his arm with ease. “Then again, after a shot like that maybe I would.”

“Fuck you, man. I raise.” She slapped a hundred into the pile and tried not to regret it.

Luis whistled and half the table groaned. “Going for the good stuff, eh?”

“Maybe.” She put her chin in her hand and chewed on her lip. “Maybe not. Though I'm wondering what sorry cards you're all packing to get a reaction like that.”

Luis folded, then Dee. Troy tilted his head to the side and exhaled, his fingers holding his cigarette tightly. “I'll see your bet, V.”

 _Shit._ She was afraid of this, but he seemed tense. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. “You'd better be hiding something nice under there.”

“Only one way to find out, right?”

 _I'll say._ She lowered her lashes and tried not to grin. “Anyone else?” They folded and V turned her attention back to Troy. “You ready?”

“You know it,” he replied, his hand on his cards.

They flipped them over at the same time. V held her breath, then let out a large cheer as she raised both of her arms. “Fucking magical!”

It took a second to sink in, but Troy put a hand over his eyes and sighed. “Real fucking magical.”

Stu slapped her on the back and she reached forward to scrape together her winnings, a shit-eating grin on her face. “This almost makes up for last time. Almost.”

Luis leaned forward. “What do you say, double or nothing? You can fly pretty high after a round like that, girl.”

“Oh, I don't think so,” V said, sitting back in her seat. “You pulled that shit last game, and I'm not letting you get the drop on me again. I've got better things to do with this money than just throw it at you.”

“Lap dance's cheaper, anyway,” Stu grumbled.

“Or shots,” Dee added. “Does that mean you're done?”

“Yep. I'm retiring to the bar to drink away my earnings like a champ.” She pulled out her wallet and put the money away before standing up. “Thanks for being an amazing enabler, Troy.”

He gave her the finger as she left and she whistled all the way to the bartender. Only a sliver of her winnings actually went towards drinking the overpriced booze, and she savored the drink with the tiny umbrella as everyone else kept on playing. However, her self-imposed vacation did not last long.

She finished half of the purple mixture and walked back over to circle the table, watching everyone closely. Half the fun of not playing was getting an inside look at her friends' cards, though some were more likely to flash them than others. Luis was a 50/50 shot. Dee 80/20. Stu? 70/30 depending on the day and how much she teased him. Troy was also roughly a 50/50, but she suspected that was because he knew she was picking up on their tricks. He wasn't completely wrong.

The corner of Troy's mouth curved up when she peered over his shoulder, and he held up his cards for her. “What do you think?”

His hand was pretty damn good. Almost depressingly so. “You're asking the wrong person, Troy, unless that's your way of asking me to blow on them.” He gave her a look, and she batted her eyes at him. “What? Didn't say I wouldn't.”

“Fuck, if you're offering, I'll take you up on that,” Stu said, grinning.

Dee rolled her eyes. “Keep your dick in your pants. There's a reason that's a dice trick.”

V laughed and Troy held up his cards again. It took her a second to notice the playful look he was sporting. “Why not? Pretty girl makes an offer, better not turn it down.”

She could count the number of times he'd ever referred to her as attractive on one hand. Giving his cards an awkward blow, she retreated back towards the bar and downed the rest of her drink.

The rest of her time was spent twirling the umbrella and smoking her cigarette down to a stub. It was easier to occupy her mind that way. Any buzz she'd picked up from the drink had faded by the time Troy wandered over later, and she spun around in her seat to face him. “Good haul?”

“Good enough. Had to work hard to recoup what I lost to you, but the others are feeling it more than me.” He leaned an arm on the bar beside her and glanced back towards the table. “When you clean us out, you clean us out.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him. “I'm starting to recognize my 'on' days.”

“Who's your ride? I didn't see your car in the parking lot.”

“Stu. He drove me over right from the church once we were done messing around with the VKs. Johnny had us running them down all day, so the last thing I felt like was driving tonight. Thought I'd just snag a ride back if he wasn't too wasted.”

“I can take you. It's not far.”

Troy was a hell of a lot more sober than Stu, and to be frank, a much better driver. He was also Troy, and she had a hard time turning down any offer he threw her way. “Sure.” She put out what was left of her cigarette and got up.

It was hazy outside, half of it the weather's fault, the other half the crowd that hung around outside. It wasn't as bad as it was in the summer, but it was present enough for anyone to take notice, minus anyone tripping on the local Colombian offering. V glanced up at the flashing lights before following Troy, and tried not to laugh at the perpetually malfunctioning sign on the front.

He was waiting for her by his car with a fresh cigarette in his hand. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Just admiring the scenery. When this place isn't full of loud drunks, it's actually kinda nice out here.”

“Kinda is, isn't it? Short of the naked woman blinking on the side, it's almost classy.”

She put her hands in her pockets and dug the toe of her boot into the ground. “Wasn't really complaining about that...”

“Right,” he replied, giving her a faint grin.

They stepped into his car and he offered her a cigarette, holding out the pack just as she was buckling her seatbelt. She turned him down and they got going, heading down the mostly empty streets.

The late nights always left their area of the row a bit calmer, which was a large change from how it used to be with the other gangs crawling around. Now she could spend hours outside of her apartment doing anything from hanging out to taking a nap without worrying about getting mugged. It definitely made things a lot easier with half of the plans they tried to pull in the evening, and it certainly made things easier for the others living there.

They pulled into the parking lot, not a single other person in sight, and she yawned. It really was a lot later than she expected. “Thanks, man. You know you don't need to go out of your way for me, right?”

“You're close. It's never a problem.”

“Sure it isn't.” V glanced down at her feet, then back at him. “Don't think I'm going to win like that again.”

“Why not? You're getting pretty damn good at hiding your tells.”

She rolled her eyes. “Bullshit. You know exactly when I'm messing around. Every time.”

“Not every time.” Troy gave her a small smile. “Think you're starting to see through mine, though.”

“Maybe.” V wet her lips and took in a deep breath. "I'd like to."

Her mind was caught between the safe choice and the stupid choice at the moment, with the stupid one taking the lead. Maybe it was the hour, maybe it was her, but she wanted to take it. Just to see.

She leaned over in her seat and took the cigarette out of his mouth, pulling a long drag from it as he watched her closely. His eyes were on her lips as she exhaled, and once she was done she stubbed the cigarette out in his car's ashtray. Kissing him was simple after that.

One finger hooked the gold chain hanging around his neck and tugged him forward, just enough for her to close the distance. She didn't open her mouth or try to make him respond to her. She just wanted this if only for a minute. Just once.

Her heart felt like it was beating double-time as she pulled back. “Sorry. Been thinking about that, and there's only one way to find out, right?”

Troy blinked once, then twice. Then he pulled her forward, his hand tangled in the hair behind her head. It was rough. She felt her lips tingle as he kissed her hard, and she wanted more. Whatever he would give her.

When he withdrew something flashed across his face, hesitation, or something close to it, but it left just as fast when she kissed him back. He pulled her forward again, and she moaned when his tongue slipped into her mouth, skipping any teasing in favor of being more direct. It made her legs shake as she pushed herself up over the console, and when she finally straddled his lap, it was all she could do not to grind against him until he was just as breathless.

Her hoodie went to the side, his eyes on her even as she was undoing the zipper, and she pushed him back against the seat, her hand going for his belt. His grip on her hips tightened when she backed off enough to slip her fingers past his boxers, and when she wrapped her hand around him he couldn't hold back a groan.

Her thighs tensed, and she wished they weren't in such a small, cramped space right now.

She kissed his jaw as he swore under his breath, each line of profanity punctuated by a different stroke. He was in the process of saying a phrase that made even her blush when he decided to use his hands again to drag her tank top off. It hit the dashboard and he buried his face in her neck, mouth somewhere over her pulse.

Her bra followed shortly after and she bit her bottom lip as he ran his thumb over a nipple. Her nails dug into the drivers seat, anchoring her, and she let go briefly to run her fingers through his hair. That earned V a kiss on the corner of her mouth, and he cupped her face as she ran her tongue along his lips, kissing her properly soon after.

Her hand kept moving, slow and tight, and he let out a shaky breath when she paused to suck on the skin above the collar of his shirt. His clothes were still on, and she briefly lamented the tragedy as she ran a hand under his shirt and undershirt. He was in damn good shape, they all had to be, but she still raised an appreciative eyebrow when she tugged the shirts up to get a better look at him.

The look he gave her in return made her want to shove him into the backseat to take things further, but this felt too urgent, too short. Too surreal.

And whatever window she had to finish this felt like it was closing fast.

Troy started when she kicked open the driver's side door and planted her feet on the ground. She knelt beside him and any questions he had were lost when she took him into her mouth, resuming the same pace as before. His breathing hitched, then grew ragged, and she tried not to moan.

She felt a hand run through her hair as she worked, then grip it tightly. Each reflexive movement felt like it was being wrenched out of him as he came, and the low groan that accompanied it nearly made her put her hand between her legs.

However, as she stood up and wiped her mouth, she became aware of a few things. She was still in her apartment parking lot, her top was still in Troy's car, and she had just sucked off her unofficial secondary mentor figure. It sounded worse in her head when she put it that way, but part of her wondered if she was doing it on purpose. Prepping for the inevitable disappointment.

It was probably better that way.

V placed a hand on the door as a flushed Troy redid his pants, and she gestured towards her clothes. “Uh, thanks for the ride. Could you...?” He stared at her for a good second, noticing the way she tried to avoid meeting his eye, then handed her back her things. “Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow?”

She tossed on her tank top as she jogged towards her door, shutting it loudly behind her. He called after her, but didn't follow.


	6. Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the previous part. Still in SR1! Might go back to edit a few details later, but I think this is good for now.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," V chanted to herself as she slipped into one of the side entrances of the church. If her timing was right she should be able to locate Dex, and only Dex.

She wanted work. Needed work. Sitting alone with nothing to do was the last thing she wanted right now, and the nervous energy running through her needed a better outlet than tapping her foot and feeling sorry for herself.

He was talking to Johnny - something which nearly made her backpedal out of the room - but pushed forward anyway. The promise of a list of things to do was too appealing to pass up.

"Hey, how's it going?" Dex asked, smiling as she walked up to them.

She laid her hand flat in the air and tilted it from side to side. "So-so. I've been better."

"For real? After what I heard you won last night? I'd be feeling pretty good."

"Well, you usually feel amazing after doing a line of coke, but you've got to come down at some point, right?"

"Bad end, then," Johnny guessed, and V made sure she wasn't looking in his direction. "Should've skipped the lap dance."

"So, Dex," she said, speaking up to keep Johnny from going on, "got anything for me?"

Dex usually didn't think much of it and just gave her something to do. Today he had a skeptical look on him. "Already gave you most of the major stuff. I've got some other things cooking on the backburner, but..."

"I'll do it."

The two men turned towards each other, then back to her, both of them mystified. "Okay. Usually we save this for some of the newer crew, but if you've got time to burn, then why not?"

* * *

Collecting the money took an hour, tops. Dex had warned her, but as she stomped back in she didn't care. "All done."

Johnny eyed her up and down. "Something on fire?"

"Yeah, me," V replied, folding her arms. "Anything else?"

They appeared to have still been discussing plans about the Vice Kings, but Dex shrugged and pulled a list off of the wall. "If you're still asking. Surprised Troy's got nothing for you."

"Haven't asked." The words slipped out and she wanted to kick herself.

Johnny was definitely looking her over with interest now. "That's a fucking surprise. The hell are you in here then?"

"Felt like ruining a lot of VKs' day. No better way to do that than to ask the local experts."

"Bullshit," Gat countered, but Dex waved him off.

"Ain't nothing wrong with that. We do need someone to take the heat off of us while I see if this angle works. This should keep you busy for a while until we get something else lined up." Dex held the list out, but pulled it back when she reached for it. "Call if anything comes up."

That sounded like an order. She nodded quickly and grabbed again for the list. "Got it."

He still didn't let her have it yet. "I mean it. Call. Any questions, anything, just call."

"Sure, man. Got it," she said, plucking it out of his hand.

On her way out she bummed a cigarette from one of the Saints hanging in the cemetery, and as she lit it she saw Troy's car pull up on the side. Playing it casual, she took a long drag off of her smoke and made her way towards the other end of the tombstones so she could jump the fence.

Stupid? Yes. Petty? Not really. Necessary? For now.

She resumed her chant as she jogged home to grab some extra ammo, and hoped she'd run into a Raycaster along the way.

* * *

Dex had been right. The little list of things did keep her occupied, and as she kept checking them off she found her mood going through the roof. Sometimes busywork really was the best cure, and half of the tasks didn't even have strict guidelines to meet.

So, if she needed to send a message to a rival gang, she could absolutely do so by spraypainting obscenities on the sides of their car. For some it'd been an improvement. Other cars she just slashed the tires of.

Eight cars later, she dispensed with the subtlety, bought a string of firecrackers, and just tossed a set into one of their local hangouts. That had more of an immediate effect, and the resulting chase burnt off whatever tension had been left.

After hitting the Forgive and Forget, she scratched that task off, and found herself staring at a blank line. "Shit." She groaned as she pulled out her phone and hoped that Dex wouldn't give her any crap about this.

" _What's happening?"_

"Hey, it's me. I might've been a bit ambitious."

" _...Are you serious?"_

"Yep."

" _Even with the extra bit from Johnny?"_

"Yeah. Whoops."

He sighed. _"Shit, girl. You really are a menace. Come back to the church and maybe we can figure something out."_

Sighing herself, she hung up and kicked the broken bumper of her Halberd. It creaked then fell off. "I love you too, you piece of shit," she muttered, climbing back into the driver's seat.

* * *

The loudest rock music she could find blared out of her open windows as she drove the janky car into something resembling a parking space. The dent from the last time she'd parked there was still present, so she used it as a point of reference.

Dee was passing a joint around as she walked up to the side of the church, and V gave her a fistbump as she went inside. The others didn't seem to be around, but it wasn't even that late in the evening yet. Most wouldn't be by until one to two in the morning.

Dex was holed up in the office she'd cornered him in earlier, but wasn't alone. Johnny sat to one side of him along with Troy, and all three turned to acknowledge her as she came in. It made her bristle, and she wasn't sure who to be pissed at more.

Troy greeted her first, cigarette in hand. "Hey."

"Hey. How's it going?" she asked, shoving her hands into her pockets.

His smile was muted, but still present. "Been better. Heard you've been looking for work?"

_You bastards._ She saw Johnny's smirk, and gave Troy a non-committal shrug. "Kind of."

"Kind of?" Johnny asked, both of his feet propped on the desk, bum knee and all. "That's a change. A few days ago you were begging us for shit to do."

"Dex, not you," she corrected, pointing at Dex. "I know better than to ask you about work. Almost got my ass arrested yesterday, by the way!"

"You know you had fun," Johnny said, and she actually found herself smiling a little.

"Fine, maybe I can give you that, but a girl can only set so many things on fire. ...And I'm sure as hell not counting myself."

"She's got a point," Dex added, leaning back in his chair. "Third-degree burns hurt like a motherfucker."

"You still looking?" Troy asked, shifting her attention back to him. He'd turned away to exhale, and she watched him do so. "I think I can dig up a job or two."

Picking at a loose thread in her pocket, she twisted it around her finger and tried to snap it. "Sure, why not? I think Dex would appreciate the break instead of having me blow up his phone the minute things dry up."

"You want to talk about it later? Over coffee, or something?"

"Coffee? Uh, okay." His easy tone was confusing her. It had to have shown on her face by now, and her feelings took a lovely dig at her insides. It nearly made her scowl in response. "I just remembered I've got extra shit to do, so call me and we'll figure something out."

He nodded, either unaware of her discomfort, or all too aware of it. She hoped it was the first instead of the second. "Sounds good."

"Cool, I'm out. Catch you all later."

As she stomped out to her car, she pulled out the crumpled pack of cigarettes in her pocket. The crumpled, empty pack.

V threw it at the nearest trash can and sped off, nearly clipping an older gentleman on the sidewalk. She barely caught the finger he was flashing in the rearview mirror as she left.

* * *

Troy called her later that night when she was back at home, scrubbing her coffee pot. It'd been a week since she'd cleaned it and the damn thing was looking stained. Giving her scrubbing job a skeptical glance, she threw it back in the soapy water and told him he was free to come over whenever he had time.

" _Would now work?"_

She lifted up the pot again and tilted her head to the side. Those stains were definitely not coming out. "If you want."

" _See you soon, then."_

"Sure thing."

The phone went over in the general direction of her bed as she started round two with the glass container, and prayed it would be something close to clean before he walked through that door. Screw the rest of her apartment. It was passable. The coffee pot she wanted spotless.

Maybe that was how she knew she was a bit hopeless when it came to him. Even now she wanted to shine the damn thing until it glistened.

The coffee maker was in the process of spitting coffee out when he finally showed up, knocking with the same authority he always did. Loud and two to three at a time.

She didn't bother checking. After unlocking it she tugged it open once and walked back into the kitchen. "Door's open."

"So much for worrying about being stood up," she heard him say as he closed and locked it behind him.

"So you could stand on my non-existent porch all night? That's pretty damn cruel, even for me, man." She found two clean cups and set them aside, pretending to stay busy. "I'd invite you inside. Eventually."

"Good to hear." Peeking over the counter, she noticed the small smile on his face, but looked away before they could make eye contact. "...You know we could've just met somewhere else, right?"

She had no choice but to look up now. "Yeah, I know."

"Because I could've sworn that was on the fritz last time."

"It was. Not now." V grabbed the cups and handed one to him as he came closer to inspect the slightly ancient Mr. Coffee machine. "At least it seems to be working."

"Huh. Guess so."

He was halfway through his current cigarette and she resisted the urge to ask him for one. The urge to steal his was just as bad, and she fiddled with the machine's controls to encourage it to go faster. It didn't.

"This thing is slower than traffic going through a school zone. Jesus." Troy was watching her now instead of the machine, and she glared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, vaguely amused.

_Liar._ V hit the machine two more times then took what was there and poured it into her cup. She choked. "That's just fucking toxic, don't even try it," she said, taking his cup away. "God. That's almost weapons-grade."

"Can't be worse than some of the shit I've had, V," he replied, reaching around her.

She blocked him. "Trust me. You're better off." She reached over the counter to pour the rest out in the sink and sighed. "Thing holds a grudge. It has to."

With that wasted, she placed her cup on the counter and chewed on her lip as she weighed her options. After thirty seconds of doing so, she finally just said 'Fuck it', and turned to face him directly.

"Look, I like you. A lot. ...And I'm going to butcher the hell out this, but just hear me out, okay? I jumped you. Might've jumped more than a few steps as well, and now I'm worried I might've fucked something up somewhere. So, if you want to back up, scratch the last few days off of the calendar and pretend nothing happened, I'm willing to give you a free pass."

He was stunned. Maybe even confused to the point that he was wondering if English was coming out of her mouth. "What?"

"I'm saying that I acted like a fucking idiot, and if you want to forget about it I'm okay with that."

The expression on his face did a clear one-eighty, and she almost felt pinned by it. "The fuck, V?"

"What? I'm serious! I jumped right from first base to third and three-quarters, and the only thing that stopped me from banging you that night was your goddamn driver's seat. I think I went a little overboard."

"Right." He crossed his arms and she couldn't tell if he was more irritated than angry. "And your clothes just flew off on their own. Magically removed themselves."

She shrugged. "It's happened before. Not often, but after a full bottle of tequila anything's possible. I don't ask questions. Anyway, that's what's on the table. I'm just thinking ahead, you know? I don't want you to back off or avoid me just because I couldn't keep my hands to myself."

"That's...it's not that," he answered tersely.

That confused her, more than a little. "It's like I said before. I like you. I just don't want every other time you're around me to be miserable because I pulled a shit move."

"It wasn't." Troy glanced back at her and let his eyes settle somewhere off to the side. "I'm just still going over it. Processing it."

"Oh." She swallowed the lump in her throat and wasn't sure how to feel. "I knew I threw you off a little."

"That's a fucking understatement," he admitted, puffing away at his cigarette. "You kicked me off a goddamn cliff."

"Troy, I've thought about you fucking me over the hood of your car. Me being sexually attracted to you shouldn't be that hard to believe."

There was that blank look again. Then a borderline embarrassed one. "Huh."

Okay, maybe she hadn't meant to actually admit that out loud. "I might've let my mind wander a bit after the race against the Rollerz. Adrenaline high's a bitch alone. Anyway, I had a point to this, but I keep on losing it. So, yeah. Option one's still available, and you can pick it any time you want. No harm, no foul. Option two's full of awkward acknowledgment, but has the added benefit of me fucking off if it helps."

His mouth twisted. "It doesn't."

"Okay, then maybe special option number three?"

"Three?"

"If you ever get stressed out, jumpy or uh, touchy, you could come over for a while. Just to burn it off, you know? Keep it on the down-low, casual. I'm still technically under you." She paused. "...Shit, bad word choice, but if no one knows about it we can pretty much do whatever the hell we want with it."

"That's your wild card?"

It was a stretch. "Kinda. If you want."

"If _I_ want?" he asked, as if the idea was just ridiculous.

"Yeah."

The time he took to think about that made her dig her nails into her palms. After a while, though, he ran a hand over his face and met her eyes again. "...And what about you?"

"Me?"

He gestured right towards her, his eyes pinning her again. "Yeah, you. You want this?"

It had to have shown, just for a second. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ She opened and closed her mouth, her brain flapping around like a fish before settling. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. I took a hellish route to get here, but I'm starting to think that's my thing. Over-complicating stuff."

"Because it's supposed to be simple, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Real fucking simple."

Troy's expression softened, almost turning fond, and pretty much went back to normal. "Then I don't know what the problem is."

"Wait, what?" It was her turn to blink dumbly at him as he put out his old cigarette and lit a new one. "...That's it? We're settled?"

He shrugged. "Yep."

"And you're okay with this? Whatever this is?"

"Yep." Another puff of his cigarette and he seemed downright relaxed.

That _infuriated_ her. "You asshole. I worried about this conversation for two days straight."

He gave her a look. "You think you were the only one?"

"Hell no, but I wasn't expecting this. Maybe you'd humor me a bit. See how long we could be awkward in the same space before running the other out. Not..." She dragged her hat down over her face and let out a frustrated noise. "Ugh, motherfucker. Sometimes I wonder if I do this to myself on purpose."

Troy took the brim of her hat and nudged it up, catching her eye. "Don't worry about it."

"Easier said than done, chief, but thanks," she said, feeling sheepish. "My face is pretty damn red right now, isn't it?"

He brushed his fingers against her cheek and she knew that didn't help. "Hadn't noticed."

"Liar. So...we're cool, right?"

"Frosty."

He gave her a crooked smile and she still felt kind of like an idiot. One confused, hopeful idiot. So she then did what came naturally. Act like a bigger one.

"Cool, so uh, want to fuck?"

He blinked as if she had just slapped him in the face. "What?"

"Um, that might've been too blunt," she muttered, cringing. "I might've used up all of my seduction points the other night. You know, with the thing and the uh, car."

"You know that's on the same level as the 'Nice shoes, want to fuck?' line, right?"

"No, but it's probably just as effective." _i.e. Not._ "Though if that line came from you, then I know I need to hear the story behind that."

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. "God, you're a piece of work, V."

"But I'm not a bad one, right?" she asked, as he put his cigarette down on the edge of one of her many ashtrays. "Still semi-desirable? At least a tiny bit fuckable?"

The expression he gave her wasn't amused at all. Expecting that exact reaction, she pretended to sigh dejectedly and walked around him so she could at least salvage the evening with a beer.

She didn't even make it to the fridge. He intercepted her and planted a kiss on her, pushing her back against the counter. A minute later they were in her bed and he was peeling her jeans off of her legs. Not as expected, but easily appreciated.

"You could've just said yes." she said, wiggling out of her shirt.

"Could've." He slid her underwear down next, and her breath caught in her throat. "Course I could've, but I'm starting to think we both deserve fucking medals for complicating things."

"Go gold or go home, right?" she joked, liking the way his eyes were slowly tracing over her. "And now I'm thinking of that stupid line."

"Which one?"

"The one with the shoes. Oh, Jesus-"

She felt his breath on her for a second, then bit the inside of her cheek hard. He touched her again and she bit down harder. The cool metal of his watch ran up and down her thigh as his hand moved, and she couldn't string together a sentence to save her life.

Swearing was easy enough though. They definitely had that in common.


	7. Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, that Vice Kings mission where Johnny revels in being a bad influence might've inspired me a little. Just a bit. Back in SR1!

The yellow hoodie was baggy and at least two sizes too large for her. It was also not her color at all. Whoever was behind the register of the shop didn't know that though, or care with the handgun currently being aimed at their head.

V yawned, and waved her gun a bit. “Mind hitting that tiny button for me?”

“W-what?”

“You know, the button.” V said, as Johnny kicked over a display and went over to the next. “The one that activates the loud bells and all the whistles. It's been a slow week for us. Help a girl out.”

The woman hesitated, then slowly lowered an arm to reach under the counter for the alarm.

It blared and V let an expectant smile grace her face. “Mr. King thanks you for your cooperation.” She then put two bullets in the ceiling and ran for the door.

Johnny had his shotgun out when the first cop car arrived and unloaded it into the windshield. His aim was good in ways hers never could be, and she winced as he took another shot for good measure. If the cops weren't out to get them before, they were now.

A sweet looking Bootlegger tried to swerve around her, but hit their brakes when she refused to budge. It hit hard enough to bruise, but didn't knock her off of her feet. “Hey, you!” She slid off of the hood and kept her gun between the man's eyes. “Get the fuck out!”

He ran for it and the two of them piled into the car just as the second Five-O showed up. “You ready for this?” Gat asked, reloading his shotgun.

She took a deep breath. “I'm either going to love this or regret this. Maybe both.”

“Nothing to regret here aside from the colors we're wearing. To see the look on that motherfucker's face when the news comes on...”

King was going to be pissed. Calls had to be going out right now, and as they sped towards the shops downtown they were only going to increase in volume. It brought a smile to her face.

Halfway through the torching of a shop that catered only to the so-called elite, V realized she wasn't regretting much either. The smug asshole at the front ran away the minute they smashed the window, and Gat's molotov made sure that no one else stuck around. She laughed, actually laughed when Gat threw on the largest obnoxious chain the store offered, and piled two or three around her neck when she wasn't shoving rings onto her hands.

It was the stupid kind of fun she missed, and they charged out towards their car as the cops barricaded the front, hooting and hollering King's praises. Somehow they made it inside without getting winged and she threw the Bootlegger into reverse only to hit a news van.

She got the car moving just in time to avoid being sandwiched in by the police, and Johnny tapped his gun against his leg. “Okay, we have their attention. Now to try something different. You like art?”

“What?” A pedestrian dove out of their way and V almost rode the sidewalk to avoid them. “Depends on the definition.”

“Of what?”

“Art. Paintings I'm cool with. Blinking lights in empty rooms, not so much.”

“Think you'll like this one then. You know those bowling pins they have in Brighton? The ones that the city commissioned or some shit? I bet you can't knock them down.”

Those pins wouldn't budge easily. Not without a lot of force backing her up, but she didn't care, not when she had a car in decent shape and a prick to prove wrong. “You're on.”

The cops behind them had no idea what was coming. To be honest, neither did she, not when she hit the jump at the speed she did.

The car slammed into the pins, scattering them as the vehicle skidded over the uneven surface. Her hands clutched the wheel so tightly it hurt, and as she spun to compensate the car ran out of concrete to skate on. Her seatbelt held her down as the wheels hit the ground, shaking the entire framework around them.

“...Fuck me,” she gasped, dully aware that they were not dead or on their way to the hospital.

Johnny almost looked impressed. “Okay, that was pretty tight. Should probably get moving before the others catch up though.”

She didn't need to be told twice. Stomping down on the gas, she was amazed that the car was even capable of moving after a stunt like that. It slid onto the pavement, and she strongly considered keeping it. “I should bronze this thing once we're done. Bronze it and never take it on the road ever again.”

“All that for a shitty Bootlegger? Not even worth it.”

“I'm still able to bitch at you. It's worth it,” V replied, still catching her breath. “God, it's worth it.”

That made him look at her. Hell, he might have even raked his eyes over her. It was difficult to tell with her attention split between him and the flashing lights in the rearview mirror. “You're getting off on this, aren't you?”

“No.” They cut around a car and she realized her heart was pounding harder than usual. “Well, not exactly. ...But I'd be lying if I said that this doesn't feel fucking amazing.”

“Good to know,” he said, a wicked grin on his face.

The next sharp turn she took sent them sliding into a van, and she scraped the side as they flew forward. It did little to affect the rush of energy gripping her, but she was fine with that. She almost didn't want it to stop. “What's next?”

“Hughes. That fucking statue of his needs to disappear. This isn't going to do shit to it, though. We need something bigger.”

“Like, van bigger, or bulldozer bigger?”

Gat thought about it for a second then nodded in agreement. “Bulldozer should do it. I like the way you think. There's a warehouse nearby. Let's see if we can borrow it for a while, perform a duty as citizens of Stilwater.”

Sure enough one was waiting there, like a bizarre gift from a higher power. Johnny covered her as she messed with the controls, shouting odd directions as she got it going. As to why he wasn't driving it instead she wasn't sure, but she wasn't about to challenge him on that with the half the department on their asses.

“Now we're going to wipe out that statue,” he told her between shots. “Do some proper redecorating.”

“So you do know how to show a girl a good time after all,” she said, clearing the road through nothing short of brute force. The Rollerz had thrown their lot into the fight and she aimed for them directly, crushing anything blue that dared get in front of her. The bulldozer made it too easy not to.

Johnny put a hand on the back of her seat and he leaned in by her ear. “I do have my ways.”

Oh, she liked that. That low tone pitched just right. Bastard. “Hughes is going to have to spend a lot of money after this.”

“Good.”

He went back to firing on the cops pursuing them, and V waited for the statue to come into view. Construction equipment was not known for its speed, and it crawled up the hill as bullets flew over her head.

“Come on, you piece of shit!” It lurched and she heard the crunch of a car being pulled under. “We are making this happen!”

They plowed right into it, jumping out seconds before the impact. The cars piled into each other as the stone Earth came down, flattening everything in its way. It rolled off to the side as she climbed to her feet and Johnny barely missed a falling arm himself.

“One last thing before we go.”

She saw the grenade and whistled. “A lovely parting gift?”

“You know what? You're all right,” he replied, throwing it as far as he could manage.

The giddy feeling that inspired made her want to slap herself. "Flatterer. You owe me booze, by the way."

"That's what you decided on?" he asked as the site of the statue caught fire. "Better be cheap."

"Oh no, you're buying. I've got something top-shelf in mind. High-proof. Maybe if you ask nicely I'll share it."

They headed into the bushes and she heard him chuckle. "Maybe I will."


	8. Nice wheels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just something short that's kind of a coda to the Rollerz race in SR1. Ambushed me this morning and had to get it down. I don't know much about cars, so hopefully the brief mention isn't too off.

“You've got one sexy car, you know that?”

Troy looked up from where he was leaning on the side of his Zircon, lost in thought. He gave her a small smile when her words registered, though. “Lin did a hell of a job with it. Think she's earned her rep and then some.”

V walked up to the hood with her hands folded behind her head, eying it curiously. “Never did see what she added...”

“And you want me to give you the guided tour?”

 _The backseat does look pretty comfortable._ She bit her tongue and tried not to wince. “She's your baby. If I wanted super technical specs I'd bug Lin, not you. The express one wouldn't hurt, though.”

“Eh, why not?” He tried to be casual about it, but there was a hint of interest there that told her he was almost happy to go over it. He crushed his cigarette under his shoe and motioned for her to come closer.

The hood went up and he pointed to each mod as he went over it carefully, trying to explain each new addition as Lin had. She knew he talked with his hands a bunch, but she followed every motion closely as he traced the lines and pointed out the fixes.

Cars had never been her thing. She knew the basics, could change a flat, the oil, etc. Basic shit. Lin had sparked the idea of learning more, but it'd been impossible to get a word out with the way her jaw locked up around her. Maybe this was a safe alternative. Troy was the safe alternative.

 _Safe, sure._ There was nothing safe about the way she kept on trying to imagine how those same hands would feel on her.

That fucking race. It'd done a real number on her in ways he'd never know.

“You see this right here?” He pointed out something further inside the hood and she had no choice but to lean forward to find it. “That's the good stuff. You hit the button and it's like a shock to the system. Fucking kicks.”

Her shoulder brushed against his. “It did kick. Hard. Didn't kick as hard as the others did, but I'm okay with that. Not ending the race as a flaming wreck was the goal after all.”

“With you behind the wheel?” She flicked him in the arm. “Nah, I'm messing with you. You got us through in one piece, so I can't complain about that. What did you think of the handling?”

“Smoother than I expected, but I was trying to sling it around every corner. It wasn't going to cooperate every time.”

“Still can't tell if the real winner was the paint or the brakes.”

“Fuck you, man,” she said with no venom whatsoever. “You want a prize too? I'm sure half the racers were wondering what I was dragging you around for.”

“Moral support? I do know more than a few one-liners.”

“Oh? And here I was stuck between eye candy and chaperone.”

The first earned her an interesting expression. The second, a laugh. “Huge difference between those two. Don't think they had time to mix those up.”

“Just because I was the one wearing the skirt? I could've made an emergency stop to Branded, you know.” Her mouth was running again. Running and flirting.

“You're the one with the legs. Don't think I would've helped you there.”

...And so was his apparently. She almost tripped on her response. “Depends on who you'd ask. Different strokes for different folks.”

His eyes glanced over her briefly and she wished she'd gone for the skirt again. “Point taken. So, what do you think?”

She thought it was pretty sweet. She also thought it'd be pretty sweet if she could put her hands on the hood while he slid her shorts down her hips. He could stand behind her and slip one or two fingers inside-

“Hot.” Slamming the brakes on that thought was damn near essential. “Fucking crazy, actually. The amount of attention Lin gave this is kind of illegal. I almost feel jealous.”

Troy seemed amused by her word choice. “Kind of the point. Those kids didn't have a clue who they were fucking around with. You're hell on wheels, V.”

She was definitely blushing, but had no idea who or what to blame. “Is that a compliment?”

“If you want it,” he replied, grinning.

 _Oh, Jesus._ There was no way in hell she could look at him now.

She walked around towards the back as her mouth went dry and counted to ten. Fifteen. He followed her when she got to forty and leaned an arm on the side of the car. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, her hands on her hips. “Just wondering if there was anything else I could've done. Curious, you know?”

“Flipped the car?” V turned back and gave him the finger, but he brushed if off like it was nothing. “You did good. Nothing else to really think about.”

“Not here at least.” He raised an eyebrow. “Don't mind me. Just mumbling about nothing.”

“Sure,” Troy replied, not believing a thing.

He walked back to the front and closed the hood, taking a cigarette out shortly after. He held one out to her as well and she gladly took it, bumping his arm with hers as he helped her light it.

Giving it a moment, she tried to blow a ring. It was a hell of a lot better than her first attempt, and she waited for him to appraise it.

Instead he blew one himself. It hit hers and she sharply inhaled, coughing on the smoke.

“Shit, you okay?”

He put a hand on her shoulder, but she pushed it off so she could turn away. “God, you owe me a lung.”

“I'll add it to the list, just don't actually cough one up.”

Now there was a hand on her back. Dammit. “I'm surrounded by assholes, I swear.”


	9. Close up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now to shift to between SR2 and the Third again! Wanted to try something a bit different.

“Urrgh.” V buried her face in the pillow, and squeezed her eyes shut.

She felt like crap due to a combination of late hours and one beer too many, and just wanted to cocoon herself in the covers until the rest of the day had passed. Once her eyes were open, however, it was usually impossible for her to go back to sleep.

She turned her head and stared blankly at the wall as her eyes adjusted, dimly registering something different.

This wasn't her room. Her eyes widened as she recognized the sparsely decorated surroundings, then narrowed as she went over last night's events.

There was the usual public relations crap, Pierce's new set of prototypes, an extended argument about backstory details for the Saints movie, and...

“You awake over there?”

V rolled onto her back and yawned, glancing over at Johnny. “Mostly. You seriously let me sleep in here?”

He rubbed his eyes and V noticed he seemed about as wiped as she was. “You weren't snoring like a fucking chainsaw so I didn't move you. Should've kicked you out halfway through the roundhouse kick demo, though.”

 _Bad martial arts movie night. Riiiight._ “I know kung fu, man. Can't let myself get rusty.”

It was strange seeing him without his glasses. When he grinned it went right to his eyes and she had to stare. He chuckled. “See something you like?”

He also didn't appear to be wearing much of anything at all either. She waited for the awkward feeling to kick in, but it didn't. “Maybe. There are benefits to working with a bunch of ridiculously attractive people.”

“Well don't let me stop you then,” Johnny replied, getting up out of bed. “Don't you have that photo shoot or whatever to get ready for?”

“Ah, shit,” she muttered, tearing her attention away from him to check the clock. Any minute now and Pierce was going to be busting her door down to get her ready to go. “Pierce is going to have a fit. He might already be.”

She sat up and put her feet on the floor, blinking a few more times to jumpstart something in her brain. Untwisting her shirt, she stood up and grabbed her boots just as Gat disappeared into his bathroom. The door wasn't closed all the way, and she briefly considered peeking before he opened the door again.

Yeah, she could only see part of him, but he definitely wasn't wearing much at all. “See you downstairs in ten?”

V nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Ten. Okay.” He gave her a half-smile and closed the door this time. “Bastard.”

Sure enough, Pierce was pounding on her door when she showed up, going on and on about deadlines and sponsors. Oh, and the damn energy drink. That was one pet project of his that he never failed to push.

“Boss? I know you're in there! The shoot's in a little over an hour. How else are we going to market Saints Flow without photos of actual Saints promoting it? Seriously! Open up!”

“It's open, man. Relax,” she said, nudging him to the side to get in. “You are way too awake right now.”

“Got to be if you want be at the top, boss. Where were you?”

She started stripping off her clothes and Pierce turned his back as he usually did. “Doesn't matter. Just please tell me I won't have to empty a can of the stuff onto me during the shoot again. That got old the first time around we tried that. I think Shaundi also threatened to shank the photographer.”

“New guy and new direction. Should be a lot less messy all around this time.”

“Hallelujah! I still have no idea what you cram in there. It's some pretty potent shit.”

She went into the bathroom and Pierce continued to talk through the door as she started the shower. Small things like noise and doors rarely stopped him once he was on a roll. “Secret formula, boss! Still trying to see if we can get it unbanned in Australia!”

“Good luck with that! I'm wondering how you managed to get it approved here. Slide some money under the table?”

He was quiet for a moment while she ran shampoo through her hair. “No, you just have to talk to the right people.”

“Right. You'd better keep Lee on speed-dial.”

By the time she was done Shaundi was waiting in her room too, and she watched the two shove a coat back and forth between them as she smoothed her bangs down. As much as she liked the vintage updo, it was difficult as hell to mess with.

“What's up with you two?”

“Pierce wants us to wear matching jackets. To show 'solidarity'.” It had a sparkle to it and V tried not to cringe.

“Hey, it'd help band people together for the product! Give it that extra dose of-”

“Nope. Not happening.”

Pierce's face fell, and V finished dragging on the rest of her clothes while Shaundi yanked the sequined coat away from him and wadded it into a ball. “See? Told you so.”

“It'd only be for one shoot!”

“Still one shoot too many,” V said, tieing up her boots. “Let's stick to what we have, Pierce. Some hint of purple and fleur-de-lis everywhere. We're not fucking pop stars.”

“Could've been if you'd signed the contract.”

She sighed and zipped up her leather jacket. “Just give it up, man. Let it go. Work on that demo tape you keep on bringing up.”

“I am,” he said proudly as the three made their way downstairs. “Only need two more songs and then I can start throwing it out there. Don't know if the world's ready yet, but I sure as hell am.”

“Oh, yeah,” Shaundi said, rolling her eyes. “Don't know if the world's ready yet either.”

“Well, the world might have to wait, but I know what we're listening to on the way over there.”

Shaundi groaned and V tried not to grin. “Need a back up singer?”

“Always looking for volunteers, boss.” Pierce replied with a wink. “Just let me know which part you want to carry, because I'm never putting you on a bass bit ever again.”

“Way to kill the fun there, Pierce.”

Gat was waiting for them at the bottom and stopped tossing his knife long enough to greet them. “Yo. You're all as slow as fucking molasses. Done doing each other's hair?”

“Tough talk for a guy who just has to worry about slicking his hair back every morning,” V said, walking right on by to the elevator. “I call shotgun.”

Johnny caught up without much of an issue. “Whoa, you aren't driving? The hell's up with that?”

“Still hungover, and still waking up. I'm feeling generous.”

“Not it,” Shaundi said, shaking her head.

Pierce's hand was about to go up, but Gat spoke up first. “Eh, I've got it.”

“You sure?” V asked, raising an eyebrow. “You were putting back twice as much stuff as me last night.”

“I'm offering, aren't I? Not my fault you're a fucking lightweight.”

Shaundi and Pierce exchanged a look and V made sure to glare at all of them. “Just get your ass behind the wheel. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can call this done.”

* * *

Forty minutes into make up, V knew this was not going to be an easy process. Each one of them had their own mini setup to get photos done for, so once Pierce and Shaundi had been given the go ahead, the torch had been passed to her.

Something dark had been smeared on her lips, and she was sure that the amount of smoky eyeshadow on her lids would make a goth kid happy, but it was at least in a shade she favored. The purple and red dress wasn't so bad either, but she did miss her boots.

The cigarette in her hand made it all worthwhile, however. It was supposed to be a prop for her to pose with as she lounged on the small leather couch, but she kept on sneaking drags of it when the camera wasn't flashing. It was the first one she'd had in weeks, and it was glorious. Glorious and completely against the ban she was supposed to be on.

Johnny waited just to the left of the photographer, his arms crossed. The minute that the pictures stopped he'd be on it, throwing it away like he'd done all the others. V acknowledged this, but still let each moment with the cigarette last a bit longer and longer. They had to replace it twice during the first roll of film and Gat frowned a little more with each time.

When the photographer paused to change out the roll, he came over as predicted. She gave him a coy look as he eyed the offending object. “Something wrong?”

“I think you know what's wrong.”

She wanted him to take it. She knew he would eventually. “Just playing my part. It's not like they handed me a can of Saints Flow to mess around with.”

“Oh? I could just head on back and make a suggestion. Leave a little tip.”

"You wouldn't dare."

"Just try me, boss," he taunted, lowering his voice. "You know I would."

“Mr. Gat?” The director was talking to the photographer, and both appeared to be in agreement. “Could you join your boss for a few photos?”

V snickered as Johnny swore under his breath. The distraction had worked. “Looks like someone got a little too close.”

“Bite me.” He turned to the two by the camera, pissed. “If I do this shit, that's it. Nothing else.”

They nodded fast and V suspected it was because they weren't up to visiting the hospital today. Satisfied, but not pleased at all, Johnny took a seat on the couch as V scooted over to give him room.

“So, what'll it be?” she asked. “Awkward as hell, or awkward as fuck?”

“Just get over here,” he said, jerking his head to the side.

Following his prompting, she half-sat on his lap and draped her arm around his neck. He adjusted her weight, and she tried not to chew on her lip when she felt his hand on her thigh. “Comfortable?”

“Almost.” Her cigarette left her mouth and she swore loudly when he held it out of reach. “You made the deal, V.”

“Doesn't mean I'm not going to regret it. Some days I hate you.”

He took a longer drag than any of hers and grinned, squeezing her thigh while he was at it. “Love you too, boss.”


	10. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking a crack at SR2. Right at the start, or very close to it.

This was her. This was her and yet not her.

When V looked down at her hands she knew they were hers, but the arms and body they were connected to were different. Different enough to make it wrong. Her face had harder lines to it, her auburn hair was cut short and kept brushing against her chin, and she felt like a stranger.

A stranger who was one and yet was not, if it made any sense. She desperately wanted it to make sense.

The brief glimpse she got of herself in the prison made her flinch, and later when she was changing into actual clothes at Sloppy Seconds she had to take a minute to study herself.

This was her. This was who she was now, and as she sped out to the courtroom to get Gat, it was all she needed to know. For now, at least.

The only thing that had registered from the clip at Tee'N'Ay was that Gat was minutes away from heading to Death Row, and as she stomped into the courthouse she was hellbent on preventing that. He was her friend and her link. One of the only she had left, if the disconnected phone numbers of the others were any indication, and she wasn't going to lose it.

“Don't fucking move!” she snarled when she broke into the actual chamber. The judge cowered from her position behind the bench, and the cop dropped their weapon to the floor as V yanked the keys away from them. The pistol-whipping afterwards was probably a bit overboard, but right now that didn't matter.

She chucked the keys towards Johnny, her gun still on the officer and judge, and barely noticed the way he was looking at her. “Shit. You know how to make an entrance. Enjoy the nap?”

“Fuck no. This place was ugly before, and now it's just godawful.”

He took the cuffs off and grabbed the extra gun she offered him. While he checked to see if it was loaded, V checked him over and found herself dealing with the same strange disconnect all over again. He was Johnny, but not Johnny. Older, with a sharper edge to him. Not even his bleached hair stood up to the test of time, and for a second she actually missed it.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice low.

She tried to smile, but couldn't. “Now I am.”

They tore the rest of the place apart getting to the exit. The violence simmering under Johnny's so-called calm burst loose, and she could almost feel how satisfied he was in taking the police down. Hers wasn't as unchecked, but it was there, confused and dying for an outlet. They stole the first car they could get their hands on in the parking lot, and she launched it onto the road, keeping an eye out for any sign of the police.

Sure enough, flashing lights appeared and she threw the car down one of her old side roads. Johnny used this to their advantage as he aimed back at the Five-O determined to hunt them down, and scored a lucky hit on the driver. He cheered as V laughed, and the two sped off until everything seemed to relax back into the unsteady state she'd been left with before.

Johnny loosened the tie around his neck and sat back in the passenger seat. “Oh, that was fucking nice. Almost like a holiday.”

“I'm never going on vacation with you then, because that was a fucking nightmare. Death Row? What the hell happened?” V asked, tense all over.

He gave her a look. “Are you for real?”

“Yeah, I am,” she snapped. “I literally just woke up and ran over here to save your ass. Saw something on TV about you getting convicted, and I'm still wondering how the fuck you managed to get caught.”

“Trying to kill the chief does that.”

“Chief? Holy hell, man. What did the new one do to you?”

He went silent and she wasn't sure if he was going to answer her. “You watched the report on the TV, but you don't know who the chief is?”

“No, I cut out the minute it mentioned you were on your way to being fried. Why?”

“Well you missed the big surprise then. Troy's been busy.”

The connection didn't register. “...What?”

“Troy. He's a cop. Was one the whole time. Motherfucker had some brass balls going for chief like he did, but...whoa! Whoa!” He jerked the wheel to the side as the car slid into the other lane, and they barely dodged a large SUV. “Fuck! The hell, V!”

The slow dawning horror on her face left the minute Johnny broke the spell, and she pulled the car back in line. But her hands couldn't stop shaking. “Slipped. ...Just a damn slip.”

“Slip. Right.” He watched her closely now, and she felt sick. Sick and tired. “We don't need to pull over now, do we?”

“Shut up. We aren't doing shit,” V shot, feeling anger cut through the shock. She pushed the unpleasant curl of emotions down and focused on the now. “Where's Dex?”

“Oh, don't get me started on fucking Dex,” he replied, his own anger flaring. “He's gone, Troy's turned, and Julius disappeared off of the damn planet. There's nothing left. Saints are dead and gone.”

“Except for you.”

He inclined his head towards her. “...And you. Still counts for something, right?”

“Enough,” she said quietly.

* * *

Johnny went straight to Aisha's. After so long they deserved to see each other, and V wasn't going to keep him any longer than she needed. ...Even if seeing him had given her a sense of stability she'd lacked since she'd stepped off of the speedboat.

This left her alone with Stilwater, and as she stared out towards the skyline, it was strange and familiar all at once. The street where her place had been now had new housing, and the yuppies wandering around regarded her as if she had mange. The dirty looks she threw their way didn't help, but it disgusted her to see her home this sanitized.

The church hit her even harder. She got one look at the memorial from the front and didn't even bother to go inside.

Her car was starting to fall apart around the edges when she parked it in an alley by one of the local Brown Baggers. This was one that she used to hit regularly. Johnny had helped her drink herself into oblivion more than once, and Troy, well... He'd bought her a thing or two on occasion.

A memory of the two of them trading a bottle of something cheap back and forth while watching a movie at her place popped up. She let it play out all the way to the point where he was pulling her shirt up to press a kiss to her stomach, and the fond feeling lingering there stung.

None of it made sense. She didn't want it to make sense.

Dragging herself out of the car, she walked around to the front and pushed her way towards the cheap, but potent section. A bottle of tequila stood out, and she had to stop herself from taking two. The leftover money from her shopping spree at Sloppy Seconds barely covered it, and she made a mental note to thank Carlos later.

When she left, she came to a stop in front of a display filled with televisions. She'd skipped them on her way into the store, but now they held her attention. Half of them talked about the jailbreak, while the other half focused on the botched trial. V stepped close to one of them as it switched to Jane Valderamma - at least she appeared to have changed little - and Troy.

Troy the cop. The chief.

Her head swam as she tried to reconcile the Troy she knew with this one. Chief Bradshaw wore the uniform like it belonged on him, and the moustache he was sporting now only added to the image. His rigid posture made it seem like he was incapable of relaxing, and V numbly watched as the interview continued.

“ _...What does this mean after all of this time? Are the Saints on their way back?”_ Jane asked, holding her microphone out to him.

“ _I think it's a bit early to jump to any conclusions, Jane,”_ Troy replied in a clipped tone. _“We've got our best men looking into this, but right now it's a situation that can still be managed.”_

“ _Even if two of the Saints' top lieutenants are now on the loose?”_

V recognized that expression, the way he'd purse his lips as if he were holding something back. She recognized it well, and it made her dig her nails into her palm. _“It's not a problem. We won't let it become one.”_

Her legs carried her away from the rest of it, Jane's voice echoing as she asked the next question. She kept going back to Troy. How he was supposed to be the one to be there, to always tell her exactly how things would go down, to-

She kicked over a trash can and hated herself. Hated how naïve she had to be to give away so much.

Her eyes burned as she went into the alley where her car had been abandoned, and two people were there waiting for her. They wore matching yellow jackets with similar embellishments, and the swords hanging on their backs appeared nothing short of lethal.

“Good call, Chiaki,” one of them said, leaning against his motorcycle. “She's not quite the same as in the photos, but it's tough to miss a Saint.”

The woman, Chiaki, drew her sword and V bared her teeth at her. “You remove that, you better use it, because I've got no time to deal with either of you ninja school rejects. You feel me?”

She laughed. “No. We've got our own superiors to answer to, and I know they would be overjoyed to have your head presented to them. The formerly retired leader of the Saints dead, and so soon after making her comeback. That would be quite the prize.”

V put two bullets into the woman and one into her partner before he was able to yell. They collapsed, and she moved towards the man, crouching low as he choked on the blood in his throat. “Shame about that, then. Think I might want to take your leader's head instead.”

She stood up, regarding the two bodies at her feet. She dug through their pockets, removing money and ammo, and took one of their swords. Her reflection peered at her through the sheen of the blade, and she tried to accept the woman staring back at her.

It'd get easier. It had to.


	11. Got your back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's rescue time. Off to get Johnny in SR1.

She tugged on the collar of the suit, and it did nothing to loosen the tie around her neck. The disguise she was wearing would do jack and shit if Tanya got a close look at her, but from a distance she passed well enough, even if her driver had been pale as plaster.

All she had to do was drive and keep her mouth shut. That would get her to Johnny.

Tanya got in and gave her first destination, not even waiting for a response before going into her first story. That nearly made her sigh in relief, because she wasn’t looking for conversation. She was looking for a set target to just unload on.

 _Shame we didn’t hold onto the driver, though. Could’ve been a decent source,_ V mused as she came to a stop in front of the clothing store.

She tapped her fingers on the wheel as the seconds ticked by. The gloves on her hands drove her nuts, however, and she was seconds away from ripping them off when Tanya came back, a new story already spilling out. Aisha was the topic, and all V could do was grip the wheel tight, especially when it inevitably led back to Johnny.

“Had no damn clue. That’s what he gets for talking to me like that. He’d better be dead before I walk in the fucking door.”

The gun she was carrying was for Green, not her, but it was getting real difficult not to set aside an extra bullet.

She wasn’t going to make any mistakes here, though. Not after Lin. Not after the damn ambush, and the way she crumpled when he needed her-

Cutting that thought off, she continued on to Friendly Fire almost on autopilot. Tanya hopped out, going on about gift wrap, and V had to keep from grinding her teeth together. Her phone started vibrating right when she was coming back, and she dug it out fast.

_Julius. Shit._

She put it next to her ear without saying a word.

“ _Playa, we’ve got a problem. Somehow word didn’t get back to Troy’s crew about our plan. They’re heading your way with every intent to kill Tanya. She dies now, we lose Johnny. You need to lose them without firing off a single shot, because they’re our boys. We don’t kill our own, you feel me?”_

He hung up without expecting an answer and she threw it down into the passenger seat.

“Hey, you think On Thin Ice is still doing that sale right now? I think we can fit in one more stop. It’s just gas-”

Something purple flashed in the rearview mirror, and V hit the gas. Tanya squealed in the backseat as they flew forward, but recovered once she saw exactly what they were evading.

“The Saints! Lose them!”

She bit her tongue and cursed Troy six ways to Sunday for deciding to slip now. She would not lose Johnny due to this. No, not like this.

A car rear-ended them and she swung the massive car in a half-crescent that left even her impressed. Tanya was screaming until her face was blue, doing everything from threatening to fire her, to complaining about the chipped nail she’d snagged on one of the seats. V got through the experience through a mental string of expletives directed at the Vice Kings, Tanya, Troy’s crew, and Troy himself. The more creative ones she’d test on him later, but that was later. With Johnny back at the church and Green six feet under.

“Keep your eyes on the fucking road!”

The horn of a semi blared, and V spun the wheel as fast as her gloved hands were able. It caught on the leather and she didn’t think she was quick enough. Not with the boat she was trying to maneuver. The semi cut right and she snapped the car out wide, nearly losing the end of it as they drifted by.

The Saints on the other side weren’t as lucky. She didn’t let herself breathe until the limo settled enough to zip ahead, and once she was was certain that no more purple was after her, she let out a long shuddering breath.

Tanya relaxed as well and let out a small laugh. “That was close. You’ve earned your tip today, Owen.”

 _Oh, fuck you,_ V muttered to herself as she kept the car moving forward.

Green’s penthouse wasn’t too far from where they were, but she needed to get there before Troy’s group caught up again. Or even worse, Tanya wised up to who exactly was driving. That would be a short and not so sweet conversation.

The large building came up, the glass windows glinting in the sun, and her hand went to where her gun was hidden. The extra SMG under the passenger seat was her only back up. Tanya gave what passed for thanks, and V waited until she was in the door before digging the other gun up.

With Gat inside, Green had to have extra men on him. She had only a couple of extra clips and a knife. What she needed to do was to empty as much ammunition into those fuckers as possible and then scramble for cover. Once they were done she could grab their gear, go back on the offensive, and wipe the rest out.

It sounded like a reasonable plan. As she slipped the SMG under her coat and strode inside she believed it was. That stuck with her as she gave Tanya one of the hardest punches she could deliver, but it all fell apart the minute she stepped into the next room and let loose the first shot.

Her arm might have been steady, but the spray of bullets didn’t seem to hit anything as V threw herself to the side. Too much yellow had flooded her vision, and when she ducked around again, she didn’t bother aiming. Just yelled and tried to hit anything that moved.

She chucked her chauffeur’s hat at the next guy that came forward, and it smacked him full on in the face. It gave her enough time to whip her pistol out to gun down the jersey swinging a bat at her, before putting two in the other still left on the ground.

That’s when the shotgun went off, and she dropped to the floor with milliseconds to spare. The edge of the table she ducked around exploded, and she fired at the guy’s knees as she refused to stand still. One of them went out and she scrambled forward on her hands and knees to take the abandoned shotgun.

V grabbed her discarded hat, tossing it onto her head at a jaunty angle, and gulped down air as her nerves sang. This could work. She could do this.

A yell came from her side as she stood up, and she caught a glimpse of Johnny’s overturned chair. He was bloody and bruised, but nowhere near ready to call it quits. The yelling had been coming from him, and he started when she tried to step closer.

“Get Green! I’m fucking fine! Don’t let him-”

A shot went off and it grazed her shoulder, throwing her to the floor. The pain pierced, then burned as she crawled off to the other room, leaving Green with every advantage. He took another shot, missing her, but keeping her running. He laughed as she pressed a hand to her bleeding arm, and her eyes darted around as they searched for a gun. Any gun.

The shotgun had been left by Gat, and she weighed her options as she hid behind the couch. Nearby, she heard Johnny talk to Green. Taunt him.

He was doing it again. Saving her ass when she should’ve been damn well able to cover it herself.

The knife slid out of the place where it was hidden in her boot, and she slowly peeked over the barrier as she heard Green respond. He leaned over Gat, loomed over him, his gun not even a foot from his head.

Gat laughed once, low and menacing, then spat blood in Green’s direction.

He reloaded his gun and raised it just as V took a running leap at his back. The knife flashed as she stabbed Green once, then twice, fury keeping her on him. She felt him fall back, crushing her against the glass, and she stabbed him again. Then again. Blood hit her arm, her face, and she saw nothing but red.

The air left her lungs as Green smashed her against the wall one more time, and his legs buckled. Her gloved hands slipped on his shirt and she let go, falling to the floor as he collapsed to the side, twitching every few seconds or so.

She watched him closely, breathing in and out. When he stopped moving, she let herself scrub a hand across her face to wipe off some of the blood. It stained the black leather, and she tore them off.

Groping at the wall, she managed to get up and wobble over to Johnny’s side. She opened her mouth to say something cheesy, heroic even, but couldn’t force the words out. She eventually cracked a smile. “Hey. Sorry to take so long.”

He stared at her like he’d never seen her before in his life. Then he chuckled. “Fucking A. You might be a Saint after all.”


	12. So it is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR1 time! Takes place right at the conclusion of the Vice Kings missions, but is more of a staging point for some late game shenanigans.

"King’s gone?"

"He’s gone, playa. Left just this morning," Julius told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I don’t know if this could’ve been done with anyone else backing Johnny up. Good work."

"It was your call, boss," V said, a stupid smile threatening to overtake her face. "It’s my job to make it happen."

Julius looked her over as if he were weighing her up. He hadn’t done so since the day of the canonization. “And you did. You’ve come a long way from the start. Humble beginnings with next to nothing.”

"Had to start somewhere. Now the Row’s practically ours. It’s fucking amazing."

"That’s right, playa. It is, isn’t it?" There was another question there, but he hid it before V could even think about asking. "It’s just the Carnales now. One last obstacle. Don’t handle them lightly. They’ve known power. It’s not easy to give up."

V laughed, her grin now out in full force. “I think I’m finally starting to understand that. Won’t be a problem, boss.”

Julius gave her a tentative smile back, but remained distant. “Don’t let it become one.”

* * *

Dex was waiting for her on the way out, a smile much different from Julius’s on his face. “How’d it go?”

"All right? I know the boss is supposed to be serious most of the time, but something about Lopez is still worrying him for some reason. I think he also tried to give me a ‘Be wary of power and how it corrupts’ speech."

"Seriously? I can’t even imagine why he’d throw that at you."

"Eat a dick, Dex," V said, rolling her eyes. "I’m not that bad."

"I know, but he’s just watching out for you." he said, glancing back towards the office. "It’s what he does. With only the Carnales left it’s like we’re seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Don’t want to ruin a good thing, right?"

"Right," she conceded. "Anything new on that front?"

"Plenty. I decided to take on a few things on my own time, and found out that Angelo’s been making a few calls. It looks like he’s getting ready to run. Could have a week at the most considering he’s amped up his defenses at his mansion first, but we can’t wait long. I’ll have something better in a day or two, but when the time comes I want you there."

"Is that a special request?" she asked, feeling playful.

Dex grinned. “Might be. I’ll need a driver.”

"Now you’re just messing with me, because I know I’m too sober to believe that shit."

"I’m being serious, but we’ll talk about it more later. Just take it easy for now until you hear from me."

_You, eh?_ She crossed her arms and leaned back on her heels. “Got it. Want me to pass that on to Troy if I see him?”

He thought about it for a second, then shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got it.”

* * *

Once she left the church V had the rest of the day to herself. She figured she’d take some time to rest up before ransacking the Friendly Fire for her future visit to Lopez, so drinks at Tee’N’Ay seemed like a good idea. It was still early, however. Before twelve if she was being specific. Did she really need to damage her liver more by getting a headstart?

No, not really. She already needed to cut down on her pack a day habit, there was no need to throw alcohol into the mix.

A hole in her shirt stared up at her and she realized she should probably go shopping instead. The gray t-shirt had barely stood up to a month in her closet, and she knew she needed other things as well. It was just a matter of dragging her ass out to On the Rag.

With that decided she started to walk home, passing only a few people as she made her way around the church. Troy’s car waited nearby, however, and she came to a stop. She hadn’t seen him on her way there, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to look for him now.

She heard his voice before she saw him, pacing back and forth in one of the more isolated places littered outside. His cigarette burned away as he traded words with the person on the other end – likely one of his contacts – and there was something interesting about the way he was holding himself. He stood up straighter, tenser. It was strange in the subtlest of ways, but when he noticed her staring at him, he relaxed instantly.

That left her with nothing but a bemused look as she waved at him awkwardly, and he signaled for her to wait a minute longer. She used that time to shake the weird feeling off, and gave him a smile when he finally hung up. “Hey. Where have you been? You missed a lot of shit with King, man.”

"That was Dex’s and Gat’s baby," he said, putting his phone away. "I’ve been working overtime on getting the Carnales sorted out, so I had to miss the going away party. Sounds like it was a hell of a time."

"It was fucking great. Don’t think King felt that way after Tanya took a dive onto his car, but he took it well enough. It wasn’t like he’d be able to hold onto it anyway. Anything new on Lopez?"

"He’s been holed up in his mansion for the last week. I would think he’d try to get some protection out of the Colombians, but we took out the only brother that actually had a working relationship with them. He’s probably seeing how much longer he can sit in one spot before someone comes calling."

"That’s kind of what Dex was saying."

"He was?"

Troy raised an eyebrow and V almost held her tongue. Dex had told her not to bother, but there was no real reason to with the two of them right there. “Yeah. He says that Angelo’s waiting for the right time to run, and basically wants me ready until then.”

"The hell does he want you there for?"

"My flawless driving skills. No one else tears it like me, babe," she said with mock seriousness. The wink that followed didn’t help any.

Troy held the bridge of his nose as he sighed. “Great. Just have to twiddle our thumbs until Dex feels the time is right then?”

"I guess. You’d have to talk to him about that, because he didn’t give me much more than what I told you. He plays things way too close to his vest. It’s enough to drive anyone nuts."

He let the corner of his mouth quirk up. “That’s Dex for you.”

"No wonder you two can barely stand in the same room some days. It’s a shame, really."

"Why?"

"It’s just amusing. Both of you are so fucking hardheaded and set on how you tackle certain things. Half the time I feel like I’m playing middleman. The other half?" V let her eyes linger on him then glanced away. "Well, I’m trying pretty damn hard not to be an open book."

Troy exhaled a long stream of smoke and gave her a knowing look. “Not easy, is it?”

"No, but I don’t think I’m that easy to read. However, there are days where I’m seriously glad that he doesn’t have any of that telepathic bullshit. He doesn’t need to see any of that." Troy laughed and she felt herself blush a little. "What? If I want to think about you doing…certain things I’d like to have some damn privacy."

"Course you would," he said, looking away. It didn’t take long for him to look back at her though, and she had trouble making eye contact. "You need some now?"

She shook her head. “No. I’m just admiring this spot a bit. Good place to hide in case, you know…”

"Anyone’s watching?"

"Yeah. Don’t think anyone could see us from here, though. I’m wondering if my odds are good."

He took another drag, then crushed the cigarette under his heel. “At what?”

"Getting caught," she said, wetting her lips. "It’d be worth it, though."

He stepped closer and she tilted her chin up, anticipating something. Anything. The stone wall met her back and Troy covered her mouth with his, making the kiss simple and slow. Though they didn’t have an audience in this hidden corner, they weren’t exactly alone. Saints were everywhere, and all they had to do was wander down a bit further to find them curled against the church’s side. It almost thrilled her.

When he pulled back, she had to breathe for a second. Make sure her knees didn’t buckle. “You’re being brave.”

"Kinda. Wouldn’t mind doing that again though. Want me to?"

"Shit, what do you think?" Her heart definitely wasn’t going to stop pounding. "Not too sure about…this, however," V said, gesturing towards their surroundings. "Want to run back to my place real quick? Test my odds more?"

"There’s also an old store down the street. Been out of business for months now," he suggested, his eyes flicking between her mouth and her shirt.

"And you want to break in?" She whistled and couldn’t hide her wicked grin. "Sneaky. I think I like that."

He shrugged, but the smile tugging at his lips told her otherwise. “Thought you might.”

"Lead the way, then."

It was a short walk down from the church, and she twirled bits of her hair around her finger as they played at being casual. He pried one of the boards off of the side entrance of the closed down building so she could get inside, and she ducked around the rest of the barrier only to be met by tables and shelves.

Spinning around on one boot to face him, she held back a nervous giggle as she took in everything around her. He had called it old, but the place wasn’t even that worn down. The windows were fairly intact, and the only evidence of entry was the one loose board he’d removed.

She let him follow her as she backed further into the store, only stopping when the wall told her to. His calm approach wasn’t surprising, but he didn’t bother to hide the promise in his eyes.

"Cozy, eh?" Troy said, kicking at an old crate. "Real luxury accommodations."

"Yeah, I’m feeling it. You take all the girls here, or just me?" she teased.

"…Not all of them."

He was only a few steps away, and she refused to be the first to break. “Oh? Way to make a girl feel special then. I was hoping for some candles, music, the works.”

"What? You’re not a fan of the mood lighting already here?" He reached out to cup her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "The easy way this place just tells you it’s a dump?"

She laughed. “I haven’t run yet, have I? That’s true romance for you.”

Her tongue darted out to lick his thumb and she knew she had him. There was a short intake of breath, and he moved forward, pressing a sloppy kiss to the edge of her mouth. Her arms looped around his neck, and he kissed her again, deepening it quickly.

There was nothing slow to this like before. His hands yanked her shirt up enough to expose her bra, then ran under it, unhooking it in the back. The low whine that left her mouth made her blush as he lowered his head to her breasts, and she tugged at his hair as his tongue lingered where his fingers had previously. When his lips closed over a nipple she tried not to pull.

"Tease," she gasped, getting him back up to her level, or close to it. His height gave him a few inches over her, just enough to have her look up at him.

He kissed her hard, and she could feel his grin. “You’re the one hiding the purple. Stands the hell out.”

The bra she wore _was_ an obnoxious shade, but she bit back her response when his hand slid lower, moving between her legs. The sweet pressure was tough to feel through the denim, but it translated well enough. “Shut up. I don’t wear enough as it is. …Do you think these tables would hold me?”

Troy glanced back at the room and shook his head. “They’re covered in at least four layers of dust, V.”

"But they’re stable, right?"

"Hey, it’s bad enough I’m fooling around with you here. I’m not going to immortalize it by sending you to the goddamn hospital when it breaks."

"Holy hell, Troy. I want to fuck you. We don’t have a lot of surfaces to choose from, so I’m not being picky." He pushed his leg between hers and she dug her nails into his shoulders. "The wall’s fucking solid. Does that work?" she breathed.

"Nope. Can’t do that either."

"Why? Chafing?"

He snorted and shook his head. “No condoms.”

"…You serious?" V groaned and let her head fall back. "I could’ve sworn you’d have at least one on you."

"Used them all. Must be a hazard of working with you."

She rolled her hips against his almost painfully slow and tried to sound defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

"You do the smallest thing, and it gets hard to focus after that," he said, trying to match her rhythm. "Fucking impossible."

"You know I don’t mind helping you out with that, right?"

He was breathing hard against her neck, and she couldn’t resist putting her hand between them to feel him through his jeans. “Course I do.”

"But you fill in the blanks if I can’t, right?" she asked, pulling him up to gently bite his lip. His leg pressed up against her, and she bit down harder as she tried not to rub herself against him. She lost the fight after the rocking motion began to hit her just right.

"And spend some time jerking off? Yeah. Can’t fucking avoid it sometimes," Troy said, sucking on the skin beneath her ear. His teeth grazed her earlobe as well, but he didn’t bite her. It was something he’d always tease at, but never do.

"Damn. Now I’m curious. Any hints? Tips?" she asked, as he started messing with the button on her bermudas. Her voice was nowhere near steady.

Neither was his. “Your mouth’s usually an easy guess. The desk’s also a fun trip. The one in the office.”

"Johnny’s desk? You’ve seriously thought about…?" V’s face flushed at the clear image of him entering her while she was perched on the edge, and she wanted it. She wanted it bad. "Oh, fuck me."

"That was the idea. Wouldn’t be a bad place to lick you either, eh?" His hand slipped past her underwear and he swallowed. "Guess not. Shit."

"You asshole. You’re so coming over later."

"Is that an order?"

"Yes," she moaned, this close to just covering his hand with hers so he’d finger her already. "Fucking tease."

That drew a chuckle from him, and he kissed her like he did the first time outside, slow and deep. She made a frustrated noise and went right for his belt. It was half off of him when something began ringing.

The sharp default tone was his. He froze, and V tried to understand the shift in his expression.

"You going to get that?"

He hesitated, then pulled his phone out to check the number. If anything, he seemed to withdraw more. “…Yeah. Can’t skip this one.”

"Well, shit. Now you’re definitely coming over tonight," she said, giving him one last kiss before reluctantly stepping away from him. Her body ached, but this had to go on ice for now. "Promise?"

Troy nodded, not quite meeting her eyes.

She motioned for him to call her and quickly left after fixing her clothes up, her smile slipping as she made her way towards the side entrance. His voice was low as she stood out of sight, but she couldn’t bring herself to listen in. Not with the way it seemed to carry in the small space. She replaced the board after climbing out, and tried not to look back.

* * *

"King’s out. The airplane ticket checked out, and he’s far enough away that he’s someone else’s problem now. The Carnales might be done by the end of the week at this rate, depending on whether or not the raid Dex’s planning goes down as planned. He says Lopez might run, so it’s either now or never."

“ _Those details are going in your next update?”_ Monroe asked.

"Yeah, they’ll be there. I just need some extra time to sort through it. Organize it and all that shit."

“ _I wouldn’t be making this call otherwise. You’re taking some liberties here that we can’t afford to take right now. The election’s coming up and gang leaders are dropping left and right. All the Saints have to do is turn their head and-“_

"They could start aiming higher. I’m aware of that."

“ _Then start acting like it. Slip too far, son, and I’m going to have to make some difficult choices. Understand?”_

Troy’s grip on the phone tightened. “…Yeah, I understand.”

_"Good. We’ll be in touch."_

He hung up. Troy watched the screen dim, and shoved the phone back into his pocket without another word.


	13. Bronze star for effort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR1 again, once the Rollerz missions are pretty much completed! Price didn't really need any of that junk anymore anyway.

“Okay, so it goes like this,” Johnny said, lining up a set of shots on the table behind them. “We’ve got a place full of useless shit. Pots, vases, statues, pianos. We don’t need it, Price sure as hell doesn’t need it, so we’re giving it a proper send off. So, here’s the plan. You take a shot, then signal to this motherfucker,” he pointed towards Luis, “and he’ll pick something special out for you. Fine china, even. He’ll throw it, and your job is to knock it out of the fucking sky before it touches the ground.”

“What happens after that?” V asked, checking the pile of junk accumulating next to them.

“Rinse and repeat. The pile’s not getting any smaller.”

“You really want to get me smashed, don’t you?”

Gat’s grin both challenged her and teased her. “I want to see if you can handle yourself. Can you?”

Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t even check to see what the shot was before downing it, and it burned her throat. “It’s on,” she coughed. “Luis, go for it!”

He picked out a decently sized vase, and V held her gun as steady as possible. It flew, and she shot it solidly in its center of mass. The Saints on the edges of the room cheered, and she stood tall.

Gat shrugged. “Beginner’s luck. Can’t hit that, can’t hit shit.”

He downed his shot without flinching and raised his chin. Luis caught the sign and threw up the next target, some gold-trimmed disaster. It exploded, and V knew this was going to be a mistake. A mistake that would be fun as hell, but a mistake regardless.

Everything started to blend into a blissful routine of shot, shoot, shot, shoot, after that and the game became ten times more amusing due to it. She began to even cheer him on and maybe it was a trick of the mind, but he did give his shots a bit more of a flourish with an audience. The wink he gave before destroying the porcelain bust of Sharpe was purely silly, however, and she gave him a slow clap in response.

Still, she was able to keep up, and there was something pretty satisfying about that.

“Not bad. Let’s change this up a bit.” Johnny walked over to the wall and grabbed the spear anchored to it, giving it a good pull.

It creaked, then popped off, and V held a hand to her mouth. “Are you serious?”

He held it high, testing its balance. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her good judgment should’ve kicked in at that moment. It didn’t. “Careful. If you actually hit something I might be impressed.”

“Can’t have that now, can we?”

He cracked his neck and held the spear up in a mock stance used in most movies. V laughed, and gestured towards Luis to pick something out. He scratched his chin and then made a suggestion. “Hey, why don’t you aim for one of those paintings?”

Johnny gave it some thought. “I think you might be onto something.”

They picked out one across the room, and Johnny swayed a bit as he put down two shots instead of the required one. “Double or nothing,” he stated, grinning back at her.

His balance wasn’t up to his usual standard as he pulled the spear back, and the minute it left his hand he stumbled off to the side, nearly crashing into her. “Whoa there, man. Thought you could handle this shit better than that.”

Both of her hands rested on his back to keep him from pinning her against the table, and he chuckled. “Just taking a moment. You ain’t looking so hot yourself.”

“Oh?” She thought about pushing him forward, but didn’t muster up the force. “I’m shooting like a champ. You’re the one failing at hitting basic targets.”

The spear was wedged into the wall just to the right of Sharpe’s face. “I hit the wall, didn’t I?”

“I think you need to try again,” V said, leaning up on her toes to speak over his shoulder.

A few other Saints handed him the spear this time, eager to see him take another crack at it, and he put down another couple of shots. The bottle went her way after that, and she didn’t even measure the amount that went down. The game’s parameters didn’t mean shit now. She just wanted to see if he could make it.

The same pose was made and the spear went even wilder. A few people yelled as she tried to keep him up, but he’d apparently given up on standing around the same time her knees had given up on holding her. So when she landed on her ass, she had the benefit of Johnny’s weight on her and it smarted.

She swore as she tried to sit back up, and Johnny whooped. “Did I get it?”

Luis raised an eyebrow. “Got something.”

“You’re like a motherfucking brick,” she groaned, trying to push him up again, but he didn’t want to budge. If anything he almost leaned back more, and she wanted a damn forklift. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

“Eh, bite me. Not like you were able to hit shit.”

She rolled her eyes, but shook her head to try and get rid of the weird floating sensation hanging onto her. If anything it hit her harder after that, and she let herself lie down on the carpet. “Why did I do this again?”

“Wanted to beat me at something,” he mumbled.

“Oh. I would pick something this stupid.”


	14. Blur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR2. Something short, but not sweet.

It was caked under her nails, and V kept on picking at it as she sat on the bed. The blood wasn't hers, but it stuck to her as if it should've been.

The hotel room by the hospital had been expensive. Much more expensive than she would've anticipated otherwise, but when you stumble in covered in blood, some compromises have to be made somewhere.

She would've emptied her wallet out on the spot. Of course, she also would've just shot the man if he'd tried to gouge the price any higher, but she wanted to be there. If she couldn't sit in the room with Johnny and wait, she'd at least be close enough to make it count.

Her phone had been going off all night. Pierce had tried to call her back after she'd cut him off, and Carlos had tried her three or four times before giving up. Shaundi had also tried, but she couldn't do it right now.

It went off again when she was leaning against the window. The street below was still busy, and she dully realized she had no idea what time it actually was. Didn't know and didn't care.

Guilt picked at her for a moment as she wandered over to where she'd left her phone last. If it was Carlos again she'd consider picking up.

It wasn't. “Hello?”

“ _Hey. That answers my first question.”_

He had her number. She did all but tell Troy she hadn't changed hers, but that didn't keep her from tensing all over. “What?” she snapped.

“ _As to whether or not you're in the hospital, but-”_ he paused, and took in a deep breath. _“How is he?”_

“Drawing some conclusions there?”

“ _I'm at the house of a woman who's been thought to be dead for years. Have to draw some.”_

“He's not dead,” she ground out, her jaw clenched tight enough to hurt.

She recalled how Johnny looked at her, and then through her, his blood covering her as he called her by Aisha's name. She'd responded to it, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. Every last word. That fact alone made her question if she'd be able to look him in the eye again.

“ _Do you want to talk about it?”_

She could hear it. He could hide it as well as he'd liked, but she knew what concern sounded like coming from him. She hung up and threw the phone across the room, her arms curling around her. Dried blood still streaked down them, some of it Ronin, some of it Johnny's. None of it was hers.

Her hands ran through her hair, and she let out a shaky breath.

She went right back to the phone and dialed Troy back. It rang twice, and V didn't let him get a word in. “I want that fucker dead.”

“ _...Okay, I get that.”_

“No, you don't. What do you need? A description? His license plate? Some other bullshit? He was some giant tattooed motherfucker. Rattled things off in, I don't know, Japanese. Flung a sword around. Any of that work?”

He waited a minute before responding. _“I'd say that's Jyunichi.”_

“He's like a general or something?”

“ _He answers to Akuji, so yeah. Good enough of a guess. We're looking into it right now. Should give Johnny some time to get back on his feet, but paperwork can only go so far. Even if I had a location-”_

“You wouldn't be able to give it up. More cop bullshit, eh?”

“ _-I wouldn't be able to guarantee if it'd be accurate. Ronin have their usual haunts, but they move around. You'd have to tap into their routine. Pay attention.”_

“Keep an ear to the ground?”

“ _Something like that.”_

His voice was almost comforting in her ear. She rubbed her hand over her eyes and stared at the back wall of her hotel room. It was better than the view of the hospital she'd been so desperate for five minutes ago.

Her tongue wet her lips, and she tried to keep her voice from cracking. “She warned us. ...Called out. Johnny was the first inside, but it didn't make a difference. She was gone by the time we were through the door.”

“ _V-”_

She hung up. The battery was ripped out after that, and she left the phone disassembled on her bed as she paced a hole into the floor. She gave it another ten minutes before she broke into the minibar.

 


	15. Tell me more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR1, and I take another chance at cards. Would probably help more if I actually played on a regular basis, but I hope this works!

The pity beer she had scored off of the bartender was three-quarters of the way empty, and she wished she'd had enough cash to get another. It had been her third time at Tee'N'Ay since Troy had extended the invite weeks ago, and she was doing shittier than ever.

Everything that she had saved for this week's game after grabbing new clothes and ammunition had slipped through her fingers, and she kicked at the chair sitting next to her as the guys said their goodbyes and scattered throughout the club. Dee had tried to slip her a twenty on her way out, but V had shoved it back. She wasn't in dire straights, so she wasn't about to bum money off of her friends, especially after her piss-poor performance in front of them.

Troy pulled out the seat to her right, and she gave him the same gloomy expression she'd been wearing for the past five minutes. “Still feeling it?” he asked.

“I'll be feeling it until tomorrow. There's losing, there's sucking, and then there's the bottom of the fucking barrel. I feel like I've tunneled a good five feet below that.”

“Bit harsh there, kid.”

“Bad is bad. No point in arguing degrees.” He sighed and V put her head on her arms. If she was going to wallow, she was going to wallow. “I'm a lost cause.”

“Cut the melodrama, you're fine. In fact, I was wondering if you wanted to get in another game or two.”

“Troy, I'm broke,” she told him, sitting up. “The only things I can put up for a bet are my clothes, and unless you're looking for a real short game of strip poker, I'm going to be naked before I learn anything useful-”

“I don't give a shit about betting, V,” he said, cutting her off fast. “I'm just asking if you want to play. You keep on coming by, so I thought maybe I could give you a tip or two. Keep you from losing fifty to Stu's shitty hands. Or hell, that one that Johnny pulled last week.”

The smug smile Gat had given her after she fell for his trick had made her livid. “Just when I'd forgotten about that. Lovely. Sure you even want to waste your time here?”

“You're not bad,” he said, shuffling the deck. “You're just spending too much time thinking about your own hand. You've got to watch the others, because even if you do have a winner, there's always a chance that someone else can trump it. Nail that down, know when they're on the ropes, and you'll clean them out every time. Johnny's no different. Doesn't hurt that he also plays like he fights. Brute force can only carry you so far in a game built for the opposite.”

She watched him continue to shuffle as he kept his eyes on her instead of the cards, and was curious. Getting the chance to make Johnny pay was pretty tempting as well. “Okay. Maybe I wouldn't mind that. The game's not the same without betting, though.”

“Yeah, about that." He put the cards down and checked his cigarette before putting it out. "Could always put up pennies, but there's no real incentive to win pocket change.”

“So what were you thinking then?”

He lit a new one and pushed the pack towards her. “Could trade facts. You win, I tell you something. I win, you tell me something. Doesn't have to be important shit, either.”

“So, I could totally give you my shoe size and it'd count?”

“It's a fact, so why would I call bullshit?”

She was torn. When she'd joined the Saints they hadn't cared who she was or where she'd come from. There had been no pressure to share anything, so she hadn't bothered to. On the flip side, she knew next to nothing about the people she was working with, and none of them had ever tried to pry.

Troy's attempts here and there hadn't been too bad, but this was an invitation. She could turn him down, and it wouldn't affect anything. If she accepted, he'd be free game as well, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to give that chance up.

She grinned and took the pack. “That is probably the strangest way someone's asked to get to know me better.”

“Up for it then?” he asked, exhaling.

V reached over and grabbed the cards once her own cigarette was lit. “Only if you are.”

Troy smiled and gestured for her to deal. Her competitive streak kept her confident through the first read of her cards, and when she replaced two, she actually ended the turn feeling pretty good.

Then he put his cards down. She had to bite her tongue to keep from swearing. “You would get the first hand.” She dropped the cards and tapped her fingers on the table. “My favorite color's red.”

“I hadn't noticed,” he replied flatly.

She shrugged, and definitely gave him a coy look. “Hey, you said anything, right?”

“I did.” He dealt them out this time, and spared his hand a glance before he shifted his attention to his cigarette. He gave up one card, and she racked her brain as to what it could mean. She was still trying to do so when they showed their hands again, and he kicked her ass.

She groaned. “I went to school.”

“High school only, or...?”

“College. Tried it, but it wasn't for me. It helps if what you're there for is what you're interested in.”

Her cards went into the discard pile and he threw his in after. “You got distracted.”

V felt her jaw clench. “What?”

“This last turn you spent too much time thinking about how I was shifting around. It threw you off.”

“I'm only keeping an eye on one other person, so...” Troy quirked his mouth and she aimed her eyes down. “Fuck. I'll work on it.”

They began their next turn and she put everything on lockdown. He kept his eyes on his cards, and she did the same, studying them closely. Things looked pretty good on her end again, and she tried to steal a glance at him from under the brim of her hat.

He raised his eyebrows at her and she frowned. Then she put her cards face up on the table.

“Shit,” he said, grinning. “Got one.” His cards went to the side and he held his cigarette between his fingers as he thought it over. “I've got a couple of siblings.”

“Oldest?”

“Nah, older brother, younger sister. Don't really hear much from them anymore, but...they're all right.”

V shuffled the cards and nodded. “That's good. Can't exactly phone home about this, eh?”

“That would be a fun call, wouldn't it? Probably give my mother a heart attack while we're at it. How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

“No, I'm...an only child.” It was technically true. Not being related to your siblings did let her have a bit of leeway there. “Probably for the best.”

He took a drag and she tried to ignore the way he was looking at her. Before she knew it the next turn went to him, and she puffed away at her cigarette as she mulled it over. “Shit. Um, give me a second.”

“Where'd you get your hat from?”

She coughed on the smoke she was inhaling, and held up a hand when he tried to touch her shoulder. The beer she definitely did take when he offered it, and she took a large drink of it when the itching in her throat stopped. “It's from my mother. You're one nosy motherfucker, you know that?”

His hands paused as they flipped through his cards, and she almost missed it. “So I'm told.”

“She-” The words wanted to come out. V watched him look up, and she took another sip of the beer before handing it back to him. “I didn't see her often, so it's pretty much all I have. The damn thing should've fallen apart by now, but it's tough. ...Don't know what I'd do without it.”

He tapped the stack of cards against the table. “You want to stop?”

“No,” she replied, and she meant it. “I've only won once. I've got to get at least one more detail out of you before I throw in the towel.”

The empty bottle went to the side as he finished it, and she noticed the almost sedate way he was passing the cards out. She finished her cigarette while she considered the cards sitting in front of her, but he didn't push her to hurry. Instead he handed her another cigarette and lit it while she conveniently forgot about the lighter resting by her elbow. The way she leaned towards him was something she decided to ignore as well.

“I don't like this one,” she eventually said, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “Might just fold.”

“You sure?”

She smirked. “Hell no. That's why I'm thinking out loud. It's a nervous habit.”

“That's a tell.” Troy rubbed his lips as he examined his own cards, and she tried not to glare at him. He held up his cig. “This is one of mine. Sure you've noticed something by now.”

“Bits and pieces here and there. It's only one of your defining characteristics.”

“Old habit. ...And honestly not the best one to have.” He held his cards up and she went for it, sick of staring at their backs. It wasn't much of a contest and she grinned wide.  “That's two for you.”

“So...”

“So...” he said in return, imitating her.

“Why the Saints?”

“Fuck.” He actually looked mildly surprised. “Payback, eh?”

“Kind of. Just curious, you know? Everyone obviously wants to help Julius, but there's always something else to it. You're not Dex, and you're sure as hell not Johnny. Wouldn't even pin you as a banger most days, but that's just due to the way you handle yourself. Dex is the same, to be honest.”

Something in him tensed at her comment, but he wasn't mad or irritated. “Not exactly the poster child for urban crime?”

“I'd figure you more for those old smoking ads. It's so fucking tough not to light up around you.”

He chuckled and she was glad to see him relax. “Blame me for that, but it goes both ways.” Troy tapped the ashes off of his cigarette into their ashtray and shrugged. “You ever see a problem, but wonder if anything's being done about it? People talk, they say that the issue's under control, but you still see the exact same shit going down day after day. People are hurt, drugs are being slung openly on street corners down from schools, and a drive by is just another two second comment on the afternoon news. It's rough, and no one wants to give a shit, or say how much of a problem it really is.”

“Are you from the Row?”

“No, but it's still part of Stilwater,” he said, meeting her eye. “This is our city. Shouldn't we be working hard to see that all areas are doing fine? That's what Julius told me after his initial pitch about cleaning up the Row. You start there, why stop there?”

“That's...pretty fucking admirable.”

He shook his head. “Don't.”

“What?" she asked, frowning.

"You're making a big deal of it, and it's not."

"It is.”

“We're cleaning up our home. Maybe even trying to be decent human beings while we're at it. Sure, it could be noble, but gunning down bangers and their dealers seven days a week shouldn't qualify.”

“Well, doing that saved me, so maybe I might find that worth admiring. Just a little.”

V saw him pause, something unfamiliar crossing his face. Then he tilted his head to the side, and she wasn't sure what to think of the look he was aiming at her.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pushed her chair back to get up. “Good game. Catch you tomorrow?”

Her feet carried her past him, and she just kept on walking.


	16. About that desk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this for the kmeme, and it needs a home! Takes place closer to SR3 to give both parties enough time to think, 'Hey, I can dig it.'
> 
> SR's kmeme's over at livejournal: http://srkinkmeme.livejournal.com/583.html#

Shaundi was getting good at this. The badge V had to walk around with was pretty damn legit, and even though Shaundi was getting mildly suspicious about her need to own a secretary’s badge for the police station, she never did do more than roll her eyes or smile.  
  
They were all well aware of the ‘truce’ they had going with the police department. Not all of them were aware of the trips she often made to supplement this truce, however.  
  
She played with the tail of her braided wig as she checked the papers in her hand, and wandered closer and closer towards Troy’s office. The only complication, aside from any from him, would come from his own personal secretary.  
  
This outfit had been used before - black hair, fake glasses, dark pencil skirt - so she would be recognized. It wasn’t a huge problem, since her false background was close to another secretary in a separate department, but there was always that chance that someone would call her on it, and Troy would be left with the mess that followed.  
  
 _Hopefully,_ she mused as she grabbed some coffee, _today will not be that lucky day._  
  
She did have some interesting things to share about the rival dealers in the area, after all, so her intentions were mostly pure. …If she dug a while for them.  
  
Linda, his secretary, looked up as she walked over, and V gave her a demure smile. “Morning. I know it’s short notice, but is there any way that Chief Bradshaw is available? I have some information from a source that I think he needs to hear in person.”  
  
"And you are?"  
  
"Bennet. Ms. Bennet."  
  
Bullshit. All of it was bullshit, and she hoped it didn’t show on her face.  
  
She smiled back, but there was something almost secretive about it. V tried not to let the confusion show, but Linda shook her head and called him. “Chief Bradshaw, do you have a minute? A Ms. Bennett would like to speak to you about a source.” She listened for a minute then nodded. “…Yes. I’ll send her right in.”  
  
She went ahead, frowning at the secretary’s amusement, and knocked on Troy’s door before opening it. He was already pointing a glare in her direction when she made her way inside, and she feigned offense as the door closed behind her.  
  
“That’s fast, Chief. I haven’t even had the chance to do anything yet.”  
  
“You’re in my office at 11 AM on a Tuesday,” he pointed out as she checked to make sure the shutters were closed. “You’re doing something. Want to tell me what’s going on, or…?”  
  
Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked over to his desk,and placed the coffee down in front of him. “I’m getting to it. Impatient, much?”  
  
Troy sighed, but did give her a smile once he took the cup. “Sorry. I think you know why I’d be a bit on edge here.”  
  
“Can’t imagine why when your lovely liaison has an interesting bit of information for you,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of the desk by him. “So I can claim that this is mostly business.”  
  
She waved the folder at him until he took it, and once he opened it up he gave it a quick once over. Then he gave it another. “Shit. This is something.”  
  
“See? I knew you’d want a look.” She unbuttoned her blazer as he flipped through the files, and set it off to the side as she started to mess with her wig. “The crew I had working on that was pretty set on getting me info fast.”  
  
“Depending on how you framed that order, I don’t find that hard to believe,” he said, his eyes flicking over to her briefly.  
  
V shook her hair out, the shorter length still manageable, and tossed the wig behind her. “I might’ve given them some incentive to do so.”  
  
She started to run her fingers over the buttons of her shirt, and she saw him swallow. “Don’t tell me you’ve got an elaborate award system going now.”  
  
“No.” She undid the first two. “But there is definitely room for advancement.”

Her hands paused on the third, and he sighed as he set the folder down and moved the cup of coffee far away from them. The button popped open when his chair slid over, and she peered at him over her glasses when Troy touched her knees.  
  
“What do you say, Chief?” she asked, placing her hands behind her on the desk. “I think I can spare you a point or two.”  
  
He pushed her legs apart enough for him to stand between them when he got up, and she wished he’d kept his hands on her. “That’s generous of you.”  
  
His hat was sadly out of reach for the moment, so she started unbuttoning his coat instead. “I try to be a fair and balanced boss, when I’m not being fucking terrifying apparently. It’s weird when recruits don’t know whether to shake your hand or throw themselves down at your feet.”  
  
“Funny, you seemed to like it a few weeks ago.”  
  
He started undoing the rest of her shirt’s buttons and she tilted her head up. The moments where he’d graze her stomach made a shiver run up her back, and she almost pouted when he didn’t bother to help her finish removing it. “There’s a difference. I think they’re reaching now.”  
  
“You’re the lady to impress,” he said, shrugging out of his coat. He placed it on the back of his chair, and started to adjust his tie. “Why wouldn’t they?”  
  
This gave her the perfect opportunity to grab it. “I am, aren’t I?”  
  
He didn’t even try to resist as she pulled him down. V wrapped the tie once around her hand, and held him close, giving him just enough slack to break the kiss if he wanted. He grinned as his mouth moved against hers, slowly easing it open, and she did her best to keep her breathing even. At least for now.  
  
It was easy to forget when his tongue brushed against hers, however, and she wrapped her other arm around his neck. His hat fell off somewhere around this time, and as Troy pushed her back onto the desk she took in how warm his hands were as they traveled up her stockings. Her skirt was tugged up to gather around her waist, and she bit her lip hard as she tried not to make a sound.  
  
He hooked her purple thong and pulled it down her legs inch by inch. It helped give his eyes ample time to look at her, and by the time it hit the ground she was almost ready to grab and shove him against the desk instead.  
  
“Taking your sweet old time there?”  
  
“I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes, but there are some things that I don’t like to rush,” he told her, placing a kiss on the inside of her knee. “And honestly, I kind of want to tell them to fuck off.”  
  
He lifted her legs, and she felt another kiss further up. “Who?” she asked, her nails digging into the wood underneath her.  
  
“Ultor suits.”  
  
He sucked on the skin on the inside of her thigh and she moaned. “Fuck them.”  
  
That drew a chuckle from him. “Yes, ma’am.”  
  
His mouth lightly touched her as her legs settled on his shoulders, and she couldn’t help shifting under him due to how it tickled. Then his tongue ran over her, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand.  
  
The whimper made its way out when he started circling her clit, and his fingers dug a little harder into her thighs. Quiet had never been her forte, a fact that she was reminded of when his tongue licked deep, making her gasp. He made a tutting motion with his hand in response, and she barely resisted the urge to kick him with her heels. It wouldn’t have been easy, but she would’ve tried.  
  
“Bastard,” she muttered, biting back another moan when he slid a finger into her. “Awful, fucking bastard.”  
  
He didn’t say anything, but she could hear him trying not to laugh, which felt interesting to say the least. She settled for flicking him in the ear and the disapproving look was worth it. Especially when his way of retaliating involved adding another finger and picking up the pace.

Her arms covered her face as her breathing grew harsh, and when Troy curved his fingers inside her just right, she kept her jaw clenched tight. This became almost painful as she got closer and closer, and when he hit the right amount of pressure she bit the inside of her cheek nearly hard enough to draw blood. He didn’t slow down either, just kept on going as he drew out every stray motion and reaction left in her aching body.

When she was able to catch her breath and stare at the ceiling again, she felt him place a kiss on her hip.  
  
“Okay, I think I might give you a point for that,” she said, her voice uneven. “Just the one.”  
  
“What do I need for the second?”  
  
She sat up on her elbows and brushed her hair out of her face. “You need to get those fucking pants off, for starters.”  
  
The playful glint in his eye betrayed his nonplussed expression. “That another order?”  
  
“Get over here.”  
  
She lowered her legs and pulled him close again, kissing him as she tried to grope for his belt. Her hands caught it as he sucked on the skin under her jaw, and she moaned against the sting as he sucked harder. It took some effort, but the belt eventually joined everything else scattered on the floor.  
  
“I want you to turn me around,” she said, making eye contact as she pulled his shirt out of his pants, “and I want you to bend me over this desk. The fucking should be self-explanatory, eh, Officer?”  
  
Troy gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, don’t start with that shit again.”  
  
“You know it gets you hard. Just a little,” she teased, rubbing him through his pants. “Don’t make me beg.”  
  
Her shit-eating grin disappeared when he took her by the arm and spun her around on the desk, giving her just enough time to steady herself with one hand. She wondered briefly if he was going to dig some cuffs out, and it made her legs grow weak as she heard him try to calm his own breathing.  
  
His other hand moved up her leg and over her hip and she was so tightly wound again it hurt. He let go of her arm, and she heard a zipper drop as she stayed still. Then he kicked her feet apart, and she put both hands down in front of her.  
  
Fingers teased at her first, running up and down as they grew slick, and she swore under her breath. Then they grew bolder and she tried to keep herself from rocking back against them. When they dipped inside she felt his breath on her neck, and V leaned back just enough to touch him.  
  
He removed his hand – licking his fingers shortly after – and cupped her breast, lifting her bra up enough to touch the skin underneath it. The circles he traveled with his thumb made her chew on her lip as she felt him brush against her leg, and she let her hand drift back to find him. She only grazed the tip before he was bending her forward towards the desk, a warm palm on her lower back.  
  
The drawer to her right opened, and out of the corner of her eye she caught the sight of a wrapper before it disappeared. Then she felt him start to press inside of her, and she immediately pushed her hips back to take him in. He groaned against her shoulder, and she kept up the pace, barely getting a breath in as he moved in and out of her.  
  
The heels gave her enough height to angle her hips just so, and every time he hit that sweet spot she let him know.  
  
Her control only carried her up until the point that his arm snaked down between her legs, and she let out a noise as he pressed down hard. Her arm curled around his in turn, rubbing in the same motions as he fucked her, and she leaned back to try to kiss him. He made the effort to return it as she moaned into his mouth, and hearing him moan back made everything in her tense.  
  
He couldn’t keep her entirely quiet as she came again, digging her nails into his wrist. He held her tight, however, clutching her to him as she mumbled incoherently and pressed a kiss to her lips.  
  
His mouth then traveled to the dip in her neck, and he resumed a slower pace, thrusting as deep as he could go. It didn’t take long for him to groan against her skin, his fingers digging into her hip, and she ground herself against him, listening for that familiar catch in his breathing.  
  
Soon enough she heard it, his grip going almost hard enough to bruise, and she met him move for move, her hand still covering his.

Her legs wobbled when he came to a stop, her knees barely holding, and she grinned at the feeling washing over her. “…Might have to give you two and a half points for that.”  
  
Troy kissed her shoulder and chuckled. “You’re too kind.”  
  
After leaning back again to give him one last kiss, they let each other go and didn’t waste any time getting their clothes back on.  
  
She tried not to wince when she saw just how wrinkled her skirt had become, and her shirt was just as bad. The blazer covered most of the evidence of that, but her little disguise was rumpled enough to ask questions about, and she wasn’t going to give anyone a chance to do that.  
  
Getting him back in order was a lot more fun, and she couldn’t stop smiling as she fastened the last few buttons on his coat. “Kinda funny how we’ve been able to get away with this, eh? I mean, we’ve only done this a few times now, but I always wonder if someone’s going to wander in while I’m on my knees, or we’re testing your chair.”  
  
“Linda’s been good about maintaining my privacy, but I’m trying not to think too hard about the people on the other side of the glass right now,” he said, eying the blinds. “Just a bit close there.”  
  
“She seemed alright. Gave me kind of an odd look earlier, but it wasn’t too weird.”  
  
“Whoa, wait. Odd?”  
  
V shrugged as she tucked her hair back under her wig. “I got the impression that I amused her somehow, but that could mean anything. Doesn’t mean that she knows I showed up with the intention of banging you.” A smirk crossed her face. “Would be a hell of a guess, though.”  
  
“So much for business only,” Troy replied, running a hand over his face. “Look, maybe it might be better just to limit this to my apartment. For simplicity’s sake.”  
  
“Not feeling it, Chief?” she asked, aware that he was making a good point, but still disappointed by it.  
  
He frowned and brushed some of the stray hair out of her face. “I’m feeling it. Probably too much to be wise, though.”  
  
She wanted to say something, but decided not to push it. “No, I get it. If there’s anyone I’d rather not have see me naked it’s your commish, and he’s one sour bastard. Surprise inspections picking up?”  
  
“How’d you guess? He’s pissed that we’re not taking the increase in drug circulation seriously. If he’d even taken a look at the reports he would know we’re handling it, but there’s no point in arguing. I can wrap it up in a day or two with what you’ve brought, and then he’ll move onto the next big problem.”  
  
“How local crime has become commercialized?” she guessed, raising her eyebrows.  
  
“Something like that. He comes back to that at least once a week, so why wouldn’t it be today?”  
  
“Fun, fun. Think I’ll leave you to that then. Pierce’s probably having a heart attack as we speak, because I actually think I might’ve had a meeting too.” V thought it over for a second and laughed. “Shit, I think it was with Ultor. Go figure.”  
  
"It’s just not their day." Troy looked her over, and the corner of his mouth curved up. “How about I take you out later? You can throw something like that getup back on and we can catch a movie.”  
  
“Like _this_?” She raised an eyebrow. “Never knew you were a fan.”  
  
“That’s because the desk’s doing its fucking job. Can’t exactly talk my way around you if I’ve already got a hard on going and you notice, right?”  
  
“Nope. I think I’d have to step in on principle.” She glanced away, giddy from the high still, and gave him a small smile. “Sure. Call me later?”  
  
“As soon as things clear up,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. He broke it off before it could get heated again, but traced a finger along her jaw as he turned away. “Careful with Linda. I’d walk fast if I were you.”  
  
V winked at him and cracked open the door. “Already on it.”


	17. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to SR1 again, and this is just an excuse to write something silly and happy based on these two prompts.
> 
> Describe  
> 26\. One borrowing the other’s clothes  
> 27\. The pair entertaining themselves on a rainy day

It was one of those days where Stilwater decided no matter how nice it was, it was going to pull a one-eighty and drench the hell out of you. This was, of course, one of the days when she and Troy had also opted to go back to his place on foot, so after a few minutes of running down the street they gave up and just walked the rest of the way. Neither were dry, and neither would be again until they found their way inside.

She wrung out her hat, and then her ponytail while he messed around with the keys to his door, and she knew she was still going to trail in a bunch of water behind her. Troy ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, and cast an amused glance at her as she pulled her hoodie off.

That was the most waterlogged item on her, and she frowned. “I don't think we planned well for this.”

“Tough to when it does that. Could be worse.”

“How?”

“You could be a fan of white.”

She smacked him in the arm and he grinned at her blush. “Proper gentleman, my ass.” He pushed the door open and gestured for her to enter first. She rolled her eyes. "And being one now won't help any either.”

“Why?” he asked, closing the door behind them once they were inside. “Not looking for one?

Spinning on her heel, V's hair followed her movement and nearly slapped him. “Do I ever?”

“Sometimes.”

They were still close enough to the door for them to avoid soaking the carpet, and V tugged off both of her boots. “Well, that depends too,” she teased, throwing her hoodie on top of them.

“On?” Troy got his shoes off while she stretched her arms over her head, and she didn't miss the way he was following her movements.

“If you have anything that isn't soaking wet to wear. I'm kinda shit out of luck here.” Her tank top clung to her, and her denim shorts were going to be a bitch to dry. “Help a girl out?”

She pulled at his clothes first, managing to get his shirts over his head before he kissed her, and by the time they reached the bathroom neither of them were caring much about the line of things left behind. The shower was warm, but nowhere near as warm as his hands or mouth, and she let him press her against the glass as he focused on getting a sound out of her.

Her hand wrapped around him as he moved his lips over her neck and he paused as she stroked him slowly. She kept on moving as his eyes closed, and let go only to press a hand against his lower back. She angled her hips upward as they slid against each other and her shaky moan was drawn out as he took up her pace.

Soon after he was on his knees, his hands moving up her thighs, and she couldn't pretend to be silent anymore. Not with the way his tongue licked into her.

Her fingers ran through his hair, pulling it almost too hard to bear, but he didn't stop, not until she was half-bent over him, gasping for air.

One of his hands started stroking himself at this point, and she groped for him as he settled her onto his lap. He was already hard enough to groan at the slightest touch, but she kept up a quick pace, one that left him with his face in her neck as she got him just as good as he got her.

It was messy, but she licked whatever she could off of her hand before giving him a dirty smile. That always earned an interesting look from him, and she ducked away from his eyes as she got to her feet. “I can't trust you with showers.”

He stood up and reached for the bar of soap beside her. “Is there anything I can trust you with here? I'm running out of options.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, stealing the soap away. “You're the one who dragged me in here first. You always do.”

“You seem to like it well enough,” Troy said, his voice rough in a way she'd never get used to.

His lips brushed against her ear and she leaned back into him. “I do, don't I? Think I might need an additional reminder, though.”

He grinned into her neck and she let the soap slip out of her hand.

* * *

“I'm staring at three pizza places, and I know we've done two of these before,” V pointed out, scanning the numbers. She picked at the hem of Troy's old T-shirt, and stretched her legs out so they could rest on the coffee table. “Want to try the third, or just go for what works?”

“What did we do last time?” he asked, somewhere in the kitchen.

She thought about it for a second. “I think we did Steve's. It was okay.”

“Try the new one then. Pepperoni's pepperoni, right?”

“You say that, but I still can't order anything Chicago-based.”

She dialed the number, and he frowned as he walked over towards the couch with two beers in hand. “Because that's not pizza. People think they can pile whatever they want in a pan, bake it, and slap cheese on it, but at the end of the day it's nowhere near it.”

“Why do you think they call them pizza pies then?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. The guy on the other end picked up just as Troy opened his mouth and she held up a hand. “Hey, I'd like to get a couple of _pies_ to go...”

He touched the bottom of one of the bottles to her bare thigh, and she yelped right in the poor pizza guy's ear. “Motherfu-shit, sorry. I've got the order right here.”

Troy shrugged off her scowl like it was nothing as he turned the television on, and casually tilted his beer back. She rattled off what they wanted, and once she hung up she stole the remote.

He let her flip through them in a huff for a while, curled up far enough away from him to stay out of range, and she eventually caught something that made her light up. “Oh, fuck yes.” A bar fight had erupted on the screen, and Troy stared over at her. “You are about to see a cinematic classic.”

“Classic?” Everyone continued to beat the shit out of each other, and he watched it unfold skeptically. “This classic have a name?”

“Roadhouse,” she said, turning towards him with her hands raised. “Patrick Swayze is a bouncer that is summoned to one of the worst bars in existence. It's a total shithole, but he takes it on himself to root out the corruption and bring order back. ...While also ripping a guy's throat out on the side. Classic.”

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” he said, flatly.

“I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.” V lifted one of his arms up to wrap around her and he pulled her close. “Just give it a try, okay? I'm sure it's not like you've never seen a 'so bad it's good' movie before. We all have one."

He sighed. "True. It just seems a little...counterproductive to use your spare time to relive the experience."

"Hey, some of these really are classics. Squirm, Manos: The Hands of Fate, C.H.U.D., hell, I could go on all night about this. Please tell me you've at least seen Troll 2."

"V, you're killing me here," Troy said, wincing.

"Okay, okay. Fine," she conceded. "If we get through half of this and you're still not digging it I'll find something else. Deal?”

He slowly turned back to the movie and drank the rest of his beer, looking relieved. “Deal.”

The first thirty minutes weren't too bad, but he made a variety of faces at the screen that she wished she could commit forever to memory. They were just as ridiculous as what they were watching, and he gave her a look when she actually started laughing herself. It probably didn't help when she started quoting bits either, but bad habits were still habits.

“You know you didn't have to actually agree to this, right?” she asked, glancing up at him.

He played with the end of her braid and took a long drag of his cigarette. He'd lit one within the first ten minutes, but it still had a way to go. “You sounded like a movie producer trying to give a pitch. I think if I'd said no you would've pouted the rest of the night.”

“I wouldn't have.”

“V, I know you. It'd be bad. Besides, after three beers I think I have some idea of what's going on.”

“Aside from what I told you earlier? I don't think so.” She ran her fingers over his arm and he hugged her against his side. “But thanks. It really is kind of a shitty movie.”

“Only twenty to thirty more minutes to go, right?”

She groaned."Almost. Almost had me there."

The buzzer went off ten minutes later, and he dragged himself away from her so he could get the door. As the only one wearing pants at the time it just seemed wise, and she took the opportunity to stretch out along the cushions.

It only took him a few minutes to drop the boxes off in the kitchen, but when he came back around he leaned his elbows on the back of the couch. The shirt was riding up around her stomach now, and she knew Troy was weighing his options.

"Pizza's getting cold," she said, resting her head on her arm. He shrugged and she let her lips curve up. "You're awful."

"You're gorgeous. Your point?"

Her face heated, and she had to break eye contact. "Flatterer. You should know better."

"Maybe, but you're still smiling."

She swiped at him as he escaped back to the kitchen, and she hopped off of the couch to follow him.

The movie didn't matter much after that.


	18. Bluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to SR2. Very early in the Ronin missions.

“I can't believe that worked,” V said with a laugh, as all three of them looked at the money sitting on Aisha and Johnny's coffee table. “We were so fucking stupid about it, and still managed to rake in the cash.”

“Which was why I came up with the other idea, but fuck it. There's no point in going to back to it now, is there?” Pierce asked.

Johnny cracked open his beer. “Fuck no.”

Pierce's shoulders sank even lower. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

“Eh, you'll get over it. Just think about all the ways we're going to spend this. All the random shit we'll be able to throw around,” V said, spreading her hands wide. “It'll be magical.”

“Might want to buy yourself a shirt first, boss.”

V narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“You trying to summon Jesus or something?” Johnny asked, pointing at her ratty tank top. “Because there's Sloppy Seconds, and then there's what they toss out the back for the thrifty fuckers to sort through.”

“It's not that bad-” He put a finger under one of her exposed bra straps and snapped it. “Ow! You asshole!”

“Just calling it like it is,” Johnny said, putting his feet up on the table. She was half out of her seat, scowling, but he didn't even bat an eye.

“Johnny?”

Aisha's voice traveled over from the other room and V mouthed a warning at him. He winked in return, and she made a furious grab for the remote as Aisha entered the room.

“Any reason why it sounds like someone's-oh, you did not. You did not just throw that onto this table. Do I even want to know where this came from?”

V exchanged a look with Pierce. “Well...”

“We hit a Ronin casino and lightened their load. They won't miss it,” Johnny told her with a shrug. Aisha gave him a look and he lowered his feet. “Eesh, they won't. Besides, they've been sitting pretty too long. What's wrong with shaking things up?”

“Nothing, as long as that shit doesn't come through our door! It's not staying.”

“Wasn't planning on keeping it here-”

“Hey!” V had been flipping through the channels as a distraction, but a breaking news segment was a different thing entirely. “I think we're on the air!”

Jane Valderamma was speaking outside of the wrecked Ronin casino - a place that had been one of the nicest gambling joints that V had ever stepped into - and gestured towards the bulletridden doors. _“The sudden robbery left many running for their lives as the criminals in question swept across the club. As to their intentions, we are just as uncertain, but maybe the Chief of Police can shed some light on this. Chief Bradshaw?”_

Troy took a brief glance at the camera, a grimace fixed on his face, then looked back at Jane. _“I'm afraid that I can't go over what is pure speculation right now. Details are coming in every minute, and until we're sure what's true, I can't give an official response.”_

“ _Can you comment on the 3 rd Street Saints' involvement then?”_

“ _Involvement? I don't see how they-”_

“ _The camera feed from the casino places three members there, and it's clear who two of those members are.”_

Footage of the three of them opening fire on the slot machines came up, followed by Johnny's shotgun blast to a pool table and her attempt to use her bat to hit a pitched container of poker chips. The finger that she gave the cameras didn't help any and Johnny snickered when that panned by, the gesture blurred out just enough to pass on network TV. Pierce, on the other hand, had his back to the camera in every shot and groaned loudly when Jane ID-ed him as little more than their unknown accomplice.

Still, Troy remained set in his opinions, if not annoyed that he kept on having to repeat himself. _“There are no clear answers yet, but-”_

“ _But what about Ultor's response to this event? Concerns that police might not be taking this as a serious threat have been brought up.”_

“ _Everything is being taken into consideration right now, but we have to take things one step at a time. Careful planning and investigation are the key here, not a sudden and violent response.”_

Troy was sidestepping most of her questions like a pro. Why he would choose to do so when it came to them, however, still didn't make any fucking sense. None of it did.

Johnny hit her in the arm, and V turned to find him holding his fist out for her to bump. It took a second, but she gladly did so, bringing his grin back in full-force. “Think the Ronin know who we are now?”

“Without a doubt,” she replied, grinning herself. “Now let's get this money out of here.”

* * *

It didn't take long to scatter it all over the city. The pains that the Ronin had to have been going through to find it made her smile gleefully, and after talking with Pierce they considered doing it again once things calmed down just to fully get their point across.

Maybe with a little less firepower involved, but that was up in the air for now, much like her opinions involving Troy's response.

It frustrated her. Frustrated her and left her wondering just what his angle was. The cops weren't easing up on them any – she couldn't ever see him pulling a move like that – but the answer he'd tried to feed Jane wasn't going to fool anyone.

And it was still on her mind later when she was tagging the back of a building down the street from the police station.

Any artistic skill she'd had before being laid out was gone. She swung her arm out to try and add an embellishment, but the golden loop came off messy, leaving one wing lopsided. Blowing out a large cloud of smoke in irritation, she picked up a can of purple and tried to clear her head. No cops, no self-criticism, nothing.

She traveled another loop over the words to bring them out, and those turned out crooked too. Her paint-covered hand pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, and she admired how it looked even worse tinted in orange. “Crap. So much for that.”

It had been quiet aside from her swearing and pacing, so when she heard footsteps, she did her best to stay occupied. This close to the station she half-expected it to be some hot-shot cop looking to collar any of the Saints' big names, but her guest didn't tell her to drop everything and get on the ground.

No, they let her keep on going, and that fact alone made her lines all the more uneven.

“Looks like shit, doesn't it? “ she asked after counting to one-hundred. “Then again, I never was the one to do most of the tagging.”

“Lin's forte, right?”

V lowered the can and didn't quite turn around. “Yeah. She'd do some of the most beautiful fuck yous on the planet, and I can't even find one anymore.”

Troy kept his distance and she felt her face twitch as she tried to keep it blank. “There are a few left. She probably didn't want anyone to find those, but...they're there.”

She turned a bit more and took in the uniform that poked out from under his coat. It didn't go at all with the expression currently on his face, and it made her want to bolt. “Really?”

“Really,” he said. “It's been a while.”

She didn't respond, just felt anger creep up inside of her as she clenched her teeth.

Troy sighed and it made her tense more. “I, uh, didn't think I'd ever catch you apart from Johnny. He's been keeping you close, eh?”

Her jaw was beginning to hurt. He either didn't notice, or didn't want to.

“V.” His tone dropped, and it was like a kick to her insides. “I've been meaning to-”

“I'm sorry, do I know you?” She stared at him over the top of her sunglasses. “Thought I did, but I might've mistaken you for someone else.”

It took a second, but the softness there left, leaving him neutral, controlled. She had wanted to see it go, but losing it only irritated her more. “Trick of the light. Fools a lot of people.”

“Silly me. Should get my eyes checked.”

“...V-”

“You going to arrest me, Officer? For destruction of public property or whatever the hell they're calling it now?” she asked, cutting in again. She dropped the spraypaint and turned around to put her hands behind her head. “Going to cuff me too? Might like that.”

“You going to cut that shit out?” he snapped. “I'm trying to talk to you.”

“About what?” she asked sharply, dropping her arms. She turned around and walked right up to him, her smile anything but friendly. “How I'm doing? How the gang's been? We can't exactly shoot the shit like we used to.” His lips formed a thin line, but this wasn't good enough. She picked at the uniform hidden under his coat, flicking at one of the lapels. “Chief.”

Troy flinched, but not as much as she expected him to. He also didn't pull a gun on her, or make any move to defend himself, so she knew he was on unsteady ground as much as she was. One of her hands balled into a fist, and she wanted to take a swing. Make him hurt, yell at him, do something. Just anything other than this.

“No, we can't, can we,” he eventually said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Just a bit too complicated for that?”

“Why the fuck did you do it?”

He paused again and looked uncertain. “Do what?”

“Cover for us. Figured I'd ask since we're here and you haven't bothered to shove me against the wall yet.”

The muscles in his jaw worked as he thought it over. “Is that how you took it?”

“No other way to. Unless you're trying to avoid all the paperwork that comes from acknowledging another gang-related fuck up. That would be a great thing to go over with your superiors. Who exactly do you answer to, anyway? I've heard some interesting things about Ultor floating around.”

He chuckled, the sound coming off bitter in a way that she was all too familiar with, and she waited for him to leave. She still wondered why he hadn't yet. “They're pretty damn high up. Monroe was bad, but you don't want these guys to take notice.”

“And that's what you're doing? Keeping them from noticing little old me?” He didn't answer, and she laughed. “Well, I don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to do this. Do you really want to start this shit all over again?” he asked.

“I'm not starting anything. I don't see why that's so tough for you to understand.” V grabbed the discarded can of spraypaint and laid a hand by her portrait. The image wasn't complete, but the word 'Saints' was lined bold in purple, impossible to ignore. “I'm finishing it. This is our city, remember?”

“...Our city?”

The words didn't sound right coming from him anymore, but she didn't bother to correct him. “Our city. I'm not stepping down from this, Troy. Not until the day I die.”

His eyes didn't leave her face. “And you'd do that? Even after all the shit from before?” 

The answer was on her lips before he'd finished talking. “Gladly.”

That made him turn away and she saw actual anger cross his face then. Anger, and hurt. She was too confused by the combination to enjoy either. “Of course. Of fucking course.”

He turned and left, leaving her staring at his back.

She didn't wait until he was out of sight to go back to tagging, the can shaking loudly in her hand. “Nice talk, Chief. You ever want to chat again, you know my number,” she threw out, tossing the paint up in the air to catch it.

She sprayed two more haphazard streaks and stepped back to look at her work. Then she took another step forward to lean against the wall. It held her steady enough, but she couldn't keep from holding her hands to her eyes.


	19. Simple enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically an attempt to fill this prompt over at the kmeme:  
> Fem!Boss/Troy  
> Boss laments Troy losing the goatee after SR1.
> 
> This is between SR2 and the Third, and it refused to be short. Not too sure if it completely obeys the fill, but I do guarantee you that V complains about it. She does not miss opportunities to do so.

She had no idea how to deal with events like this. Before now the number of formal events she had suffered through had been a grand number of two – a failed homecoming, and an even more abysmal prom – and now she was attempting to schmooze it up at a ball. A Policeman's Ball, of all things.

Troy's invitation had come a couple of months after they had finalized their agreement, and when Johnny had torn it open he'd given her quite the look.

Then he'd very bluntly told her there was no way in hell he was putting on a monkey suit for that.

“Fair enough,” she'd said, but on the day of he was standing downstairs with Shaundi and Pierce, and V smiled wide and pushed down any anxious thoughts concerning the evening.

This was the Saints' first outing with the police in their neutral zone. It was guaranteed to be tense as hell, and when they had all wandered in it had gone silent enough to hear a pin drop. Then she'd grabbed two glasses of champagne and shotgunned them, raising an empty glass to the stunned crowd before heading straight towards the bar.

Johnny had stalked after her while Pierce tried to loudly diffuse the situation, and V knew this was going to be a long one.

“Not bad,” Pierce said at their table later, making sure his hat was angled right. “Aside from the little snag at the start, this is going to look good for us, boss.”

“Schmoozing with the boys in blue? Sure.” Johnny refilled her glass with the bottle he had borrowed from the bartender, and she ran a finger around the rim. “If we keep the property damage down to a minimum, right?”

Pierce took the bottle away from them and V pouted. “Yeah, because a nice hotel like this doesn't need any of us puking into the bushes due to drinking the bar under. No offense, boss.”

“Spoilsport.”

Johnny smirked and gave her the rest of his drink. “No misbehaving tonight? You know who we're talking about here.”

She punched him in the arm. “Fuck you, and you too, Pierce. I can play nice.”

“Right...”

“Give the boss a break, guys. Maybe we can relax for once. I know I am after that last fucking shift,” Shaundi groused. “I'm having serious regrets about the applicant list.”

“Thinking about redoing the questionnaire?” V asked.

“I'm thinking of redoing a lot of things...”

They all continued to talk and stay occupied, and they actually almost resembled normal attendees. Aside from the purple and the wide berth the room tried to give them. It eased as the evening wore on and no one appeared to be in a combative mood.

She had yet to really see Troy, however. This had to be a calculated move on his part, and she was practically scanning the room for any sign of him.

When he did make his appearance, it was with the commissioner by his side, and V didn't have any time to check him out before they were on the stage. They went through what she assumed was the usual spiel and Johnny stole the bottle back from Pierce to tilt it back. She clapped when she was supposed to, they went through the acknowledgments that Pierce pointed out on the flier, and they were generally well-behaved. Even when the commissioner had to take a good hard look at them.

Johnny leaned close once they started going into the silent auction and she felt her eyes beginning to droop. “I don't see how these fuckers can do this every year. I'm this close to throwing something just to get out of this damn chair.”

“Give it time, man. It's one shitty evening, and I owe you big time for even coming,” V told him, yawning. “Hell, maybe you'll win a kick ass door prize while we're here. Wouldn't it be worth it just to see them have to work around the fact that you won something of theirs? Legitimately?”

“Maybe.”

Gat leaned back in his chair, and V put her chin in her hand for lack of anything better to do. Troy glanced over briefly, and she raised her eyebrows up. It didn't earn much of a reaction from him, but she did notice him purse his lips a bit as they went through the end of the acknowledgments.

A quick dinner was served after that, something with chicken, vegetables and a dessert vaguely resembling cheesecake, and then they were all freed again to do something anyone who had attended a ceremony dreaded.

Dancing.

V eyed the open floor and decided she was nowhere near drunk enough to tackle that yet, and stole another champagne flute from a server wandering around. Johnny had abandoned her at this point to avoid any chance of hitting it, while Pierce had actually begun to make the circuit, using his time wisely. She was decidedly not, and Shaundi found her while she was doing this, and coincidentally enough, staring over at Troy.

He was talking with a few other officers and V didn't think she was zoning out that bad until Shaundi poked her in the shoulder. “Boss?”

“Shit, since when are you the stealthy one?” V asked, jumping. “Nearly made me lose my drink.”

“Never underestimate a good pair of heels. Are you okay? You look like you're trying to burn a hole in Troy's back.”

“Great. Is that how it looks? If anything I'm just cursing the fact that moustaches exist again.”

“Really?” Shaundi put a hand on her hip. “Do tell.”

“Seriously. The fact that it's a cop thing doesn't help any, but it's just not right.”

“What is?”

“How he had to get rid of it.”

Shaundi definitely appeared confused now. “...What?”

“Every time I see him I wonder why he thought that damn thing was ever a good idea. The goatee probably wasn't ideal for the uniform, but it could've worked. Maybe,” V sighed.

“Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Shaundi laughed. “Boss, you're waxing poetic over the Chief of Police's facial hair.”

V waited, then took another large drink of her champagne. “It was a really nice goatee.”

Something dawned on Shaundi's face, and V felt alarms start to go off in the back of her head. “Holy shit. I can't believe it.”

“What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“You had a crush on him. You seriously had a crush on him back when he was with us,” Shaundi said, triumphantly.

“Fuck no,” V sputtered, “I mean, he was something else, but...”

“Liar.”

She frowned at Shaundi's large smile. “You're pretty fucking amused by this.”

“You don't really date, so it's weird to actually have something to go off of, and older guys in positions of authority is a bit of a whopper, boss.”

“Don't even go there.”

“What? I can see how that would be pretty hot-”

“Shaundi,” V said, her voice low. “I am not going to go into the finer details of this. Especially when you're pointing it out like that.”

Shaundi sighed. “I'm just trying to have some girl talk.” V tipped her glass back again only to notice it was empty. “Okay, I was hoping you would make a face at that, but I'm serious. I'm just trying to have some fun and gossip a bit. No harm, right?”

“Nope, of course not.” She spotted Pierce and Johnny on the edge of the dance floor, and she pawned her empty glass off on another server as she quickly made her retreat. “I'm going to see if the boys need anything. Haven't seen them in a while, and you can never be sure, eh?”

“Sure, boss,” Shaundi said, giving her a knowing look. “Sure.”

Johnny appeared nothing short of miserable once she got close enough to greet them. His eyes might have been hidden, but V had a feeling they were watching everything. Pierce had been cheerful, but as she got closer she could hear the beginning of an argument that she wasn't sure Pierce would win.

“Yo,” she said, putting her hands on Pierce's shoulders. To his credit, he did not jump. “I think one of you needs a break, while the other needs to help me cut up the dance floor.”

“You remember those suits that showed up a month ago that wanted us to go over that fucking movie deal?” Johnny asked. “They're back at the HQ right now demanding to talk to someone in charge.”

V let Pierce go. “The fuck? Couldn't they have called first? We're a little occupied.”

“Apparently they did, but no one picked up,” Pierce told her. “I'd call bullshit, but it's a decent investment. If they're crashing our place this late, then it has to be important.”

“Shit. Got to take care of business then.” She gestured towards Johnny. “Take Shaundi and see what the problem is. If it's important, talk. If not, kick them out on their ass. We're not at their beck and call.”

He frowned. “You sure, boss?”

“Hell yeah. I'll be fine, and if I manage to royally fuck things up, Pierce's got me.” She slapped Pierce on the back and he cringed. “Right?”

“Right, completely,” he said quickly.

Johnny's frown didn't ease, but he did try to give her a weak smile. “Whatever. If they go, I'm making them take the express way to the bottom.”

“At least let them talk first!” she replied, earning a real grin as he walked off. “I mean it, Gat!”

“Half of these cops are going to be parked outside of our place in an hour, aren't they?” Pierce asked, watching Shaundi and Gat head out.

“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, you owe me a dance. Want to get on that?”

He sighed, but still held out his hand for her to take. “You sure are dedicated to this tonight.”

“I'm being responsible for once. Give me a break,” she fussed, following him as he pulled her into a formal slow dance to fit the music.

“Yeah, I know, but you sure do pick some weird-ass times to do it.” He spun her and she mock bowed to the jittery couple she was left facing before spinning back. “Still, not a bad idea at all, boss. Getting tight with the police does make things easier and if we're tight with the Chief as well then we might be able to get a few other things off the ground. Think we could start talking parade floats? It's never too early to talk Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, no. We're not tight with the Chief,” V said, nailing the transition back. “He's a few notches short of okay with us. Big difference.”

“Maybe he's just okay with you then?” She dug her nails into his shoulder and Pierce winced. “Shit, he isn't?”

“You are all so fucking lucky I like you,” she muttered.

“You two in the middle of something?”

Pierce skidded to a stop and V nearly tripped over his feet. Troy watched them with amusement and her face went red.

“Yes!”

“No?”

Troy let his eyes drift between them as Pierce mouthed an apology to her, and V knew she was stuck. “No, we're not.”

“Then you won't mind me borrowing you for a bit?” he asked, looking sharp as hell.

V eased the death-grip she had on Pierce's hand and let go. “No, I guess not.”

Pierce groaned. “Now you're leaving me too?”

“Oh, I'm sure you can find a nice lady cop to keep you busy. Or maybe a fancy gentleman. You've got those here, right?”

“If you know where to look,” Troy said wryly, offering his hand to her.

She rolled her eyes hard as they walked away from an exasperated Pierce. “Maybe they can swoop in to save me then. Wasn't sure that touching me in public was kosher, Chief.”

Troy snorted. “You're a sponsor. I think I can dance with you once and not worry about getting struck by lightning.”

“Don't be too sure about that,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Their slow dance did draw a couple of curious looks, but Troy's formal stance made Pierce's seem sloppy. Every step out of bounds that V took he corrected, and she noticed that he maintained a careful distance between them. A smile crept onto her face as he continued to be obsessively proper, and he tried not to smile himself.

“Can you quit it?”

“Quit what?” she asked, her innocent tone falling short.

“Being your usual charming self.”

She was ready to retort when he pulled her close and went for a dip, making her squeak. Her short dress was not suited for any of it, and her face was burning when she came back up to his level. “You asshole.”

His indifferent expression didn't match the mischievous look in his eyes one bit. “Guess we're both a couple of charmers then.”

Her mouth stayed shut for a good five minutes after that.

She'd never had a chance to dance with him before. The old parties and celebrations at the clubs were a whole different beast, something which she enjoyed greatly, but not once had she caught him taking part. It didn't surprise her, but now it almost seemed to make perfect sense.

_Fucking cops,_ she cursed, following him closely. _Fucking cops and their bullshit rules._

She'd play along for now, but if he dipped her again, she was kissing him. PR be damned.

The ball cut in before she could deliver on her promise, however. He was being waved away, and she took the opportunity to put her lips by his ear. “Meet me once you're done?” Her mouth was running, and she didn't feel like stopping it.

She expected him to shoot her down right there, but he didn't say anything right away. Then he squeezed her hand. “The fountain work?”

There had been an obnoxious fountain on the way to the main ballroom, some golden thing that might've been a mermaid. “Sure. Don't take too long.”

He left and she wandered off in the opposite direction.

* * *

Her lipstick was smudged. She tried to fix what she could in the mirror she'd snagged from Shaundi, but it didn't seem good enough. That she was nervous over something as simple as lipstick made her want to slap herself silly, but she didn't leave. No, she wanted to see how this could play out, even if it meant smoothing her hair down and checking her teeth.

Stupid things, but old habits were old habits.

Pierce had ended up cutting out early after all, the cops he'd found to be agreeable had wanted to crash a club or two, but she'd joked that the show had to go on somehow, even if she had to be the frontrunner. That got her a critical look, but he didn't argue or try to twist her arm into leaving. He had also wisely kept his opinions on the matter to himself, and the minute he walked out the door she was left only with her questions and herself. And Troy, but he had yet to show, leaving her pacing around in the large space.

She had finally settled down on one side of the gaudy fountain to flick pennies into it when he showed up. He appeared both ready to sleep and ready to drink, so it was no real surprise when the first words out of his mouth involved alcohol. “I need a fucking drink. Let's head up.”

She grabbed her heels off of the stone next to her and followed in her bare feet. “Not enough booze at the party?”

“There's never enough when it comes to politics.”

On their trip up only one other couple entered the elevators and V leaned her shoulder against his as she yawned loudly. When his floor came up he put a hand on her lower back to guide her forward. She let him do so, liking the contact too much to end it, and it stayed until he had to get his door open.

It wasn't a large room at all, but it was comfortable. It also didn't seem like he'd only rented it for the night. “Is this your little home away from home?”

He put his hat on the small desk to the left of the television and went straight for the bottle of bourbon resting by it. “Sort of. It's private, and sometimes privacy's hard to get. I'm sure you know what that's like.”

“Between Shaundi's dating show and Pierce's schemes? Yeah, it gets a bit weird from time to time.” She left her shoes and clutch by the door and took the glass he offered, swirling what was inside once before downing it. Bourbon wasn't her usual by any means, but it went down smooth enough. “I think a photographer tried to climb in through my balcony once.”

“You think?”

“I wasn't exactly awake at the time, but Johnny had been outside taking one of our cars for a spin. He caught the guy trying to scale the front and...that didn't end well for him or our security staff.”

Troy lowered his glass and rubbed his lips. “Fuck. I think I remember seeing that cross my desk, and by the end of the day the guy wasn't even thinking of pressing charges.”

“Johnny's kind of terrifying like that. Can I?” He poured her another and she decided to sip it slowly this time around. “Good stuff.”

“Eh, it's all right,” Troy said, taking his time with his own. “Takes the edge off.”

“You threw us all, you know. When you sent that invite.” She leaned back against the desk and tapped her nails on the wood. “I think Johnny had been seconds away from ripping it up before I'd walked in.”

“You could've called for a replacement.”

“Troy.” She gave him a look and he took a longer drink in response. “You know it's not good for your health to intentionally piss him off, right?”

“So's smoking and drinking, but you're probably right. Don't need Gat pointing another gun at my head so soon, but if it'd been tonight at least it would've added something to the party. Almost fell asleep on my feet twice.”

V sighed. “Idiots. All of you, I swear.”

He chuckled and put his glass down to unbutton his coat. It went on the back of the chair, and when he started messing with his tie she reached over to tug at it.

Her glass joined his on the desk and she smoothed the tie down as she ran her fingers along the knot. “I'm starting to think I have a thing for uniforms.”

It came loose and his hands touched her elbows, holding them gently. “Why's that?”

“You look good, and seeing you all dressed to the nines is kind of impressive. ...For a cop.”

“For a cop?”

“Yeah, but you might be the exception here.” Her fingers ran over a button or two on his shirt, picking at them slightly. “Just saying, Chief.”

His hands slid up her arms and he leaned forward, covering her mouth with his.

It made her halt for a second, but the light touch made her heart pound, and she'd missed that. Missed him. Maybe he'd missed it too.

When his palms moved over her shoulders she shivered and kissed him back, opening her mouth enough to trace her tongue over his lips. It made him swallow, and she did it again until he opened his mouth in return. She deepened the kiss slowly, taking in the gradual change in his breathing, and wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him close.

His hands continued to travel over her, and she moaned when they moved over her breasts. The strapless dress left just enough skin exposed for him to graze it with his fingertips, and she rested her forehead against his as he touched the skin under the edge of the fabric. One of her hands drifted behind her, and dropped the zipper, kissing him hard as her dress hit the ground.

He let her have the lead after that, pulling him towards the bed to sit him down at the edge. V tilted his chin up to kiss him again as she climbed onto his lap, and he touched her sides lightly before she placed his hands directly over her chest.

“No need to be shy,” she whispered against his mouth, and he squeezed her carefully in response. “Troy, please.”

His eyes moved over her as she let go, and he wrapped an arm around her lower back to lift and push her against the bed. A gasp left her, then a sharper one when his tongue ran over a nipple, and as he sucked it into his mouth she tried to fumble at the buttons on his shirt. Somehow she made it through two as he moved to her other breast, and she eventually gave up to run her hands through his hair. His hands ran down her stomach, every inch of her wanting more of that warmth, and when he rubbed her through her underwear she rocked up against him with a whine.

Instead of moving lower, he came back up, pushing his tongue into her mouth as she ground harder against his hand. One finger traced along her, and she gripped him tight as he repeated the motion until she was shaking.

“You're that damn wet, eh? Fuck.” He moved her underwear to the side and she heard his breath grow ragged. “God, V.”

Hearing him moan her name made her flush, and he eased a finger into her as she tried to reach for his shirt again. The easy pace made her want to move her hips in time, but she forced herself to focus on the buttons only. When she finished half he added another finger, and she started rocking with him, gasping when his slick fingers moved over her clit.

She grit her teeth and made her way to the bottom button, getting it open just as he pressed down hard, and she writhed against him as her body tensed and tipped over that invisible line. It hit her hard, making her legs curl up around him as she bucked up, and when she was left nothing but a breathy mess, he pressed a hungry kiss to her mouth.

The bite she gave to his bottom lip wasn't too gentle, and after she stripped him of his shirts, she sucked hard on his neck, staining him red with her lipstick.

It wasn't enough, though. She pushed Troy over onto his back and got his belt open in record time, giving him next to no warning before he was in her mouth. He swore loudly and she went fast, wanting to hear him groan as she tightened the seal of her lips.

He moaned her name again, and she withdrew to lick him slowly, drawing her tongue around the tip. She did this twice before he pulled her up and tried to yank her panties down. V helped him slip them over her thighs and watched as he tried to calm himself long enough to think.

“Missing something?” she asked, trailing her nails down his chest.

He shimmied his pants the rest of the way off, and sat up, drawing her onto his lap. “No. Just...working on it.”

Having him that hard against her was cruel, and she stroked him as he tried to grab for his pants. He hissed when she helped him roll the condom on, and she used his shoulders to push herself up to sink onto him.

She held on tight as she eased up and down, and she felt his hands dig into her thighs as she took him in deeper and deeper. Her eyes slid closed as he rested inside of her, and she felt him start to shift his hips up. She moved up as well, forcing him to push her back down and she gave him a wicked grin as she moved with him, but not entirely.

It didn't take as long for him to lose his patience this time, and he pushed her onto her back, taking in her coy smile before pushing deep into her. Her legs wrapped around him tight, and she knew she was scratching him a bit harder than intended, but it was difficult not to with the way he rolled his hips against her.

The steady rhythm brought back memories as he slid in and out, and she couldn't help but feel content. She kissed him wherever she could, her mouth rambling when she wasn't, and he moved faster when she spoke to him directly, telling him three words over and over.

He groaned his response against her lips when she felt him go, and she held him tighter. Rocked with him as he buried his face in her neck, and her fingers threaded through his hair.

Then it was just the two of them again, wrapped up together in a place where no one could find them.

As his breathing relaxed, Troy pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and brushed her bangs out of the way, glancing down at her.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” she asked, warm and comfortable in his arms. “Just like the good old days?”

His eyes drifted away from her, and his mouth drew into something close to a frown.

“Troy?” He still didn't look at her, and V put a hand on his chin to gently turn it. “Hey. Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Think too much. You always think and think and think and this doesn't have to be that complicated. Not this time around,” she said.

He ran a finger over the back of her hand. “Simplify it for me then.”

“I've lost a lot of things. Time, friends, family. It hasn't been easy, but it's helped me realize something.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and made herself continue. “I know what I am doesn't make this easy, and what you are sure as hell doesn't, but I'm sick of letting it rule me. This is me and you. and if this is what we want why shouldn't we have it?”

"For what it is?"

"Yeah. It's not exactly normal, but we're not exactly normal either. I don't know what I'd do with that, honestly."

“And anyone else who'd tell you to do otherwise? Just fuck them?” he asked, turning his head to kiss her palm.

“Fuck them. Simple as that.”

“Simple, huh?” He cracked a smile and she let out a sigh of relief. “...Simple enough for me. But you know we can't exactly parade this around, right?”

“I know, and I'm willing to work with that. Besides, we've already got some experience with that behind our belts. Shouldn't be too difficult to get back into the swing of things if we want, eh?”

“Nah, shouldn't be too bad,” he said, looking at her fondly. “And I do want it. Want you.”

V actually had to break eye contact then, but that was more to hide the stupid grin on her face than anything else. “Good, because I'm not very good at handling the walk of shame bit.”

“And I'm not very good at taking directed shots to the balls either, so I think we've saved each other some trouble.”

She laughed and hugged him, her forehead resting against his. He held her just as tight.


	20. Show some spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place way, way back towards the beginning of SR1. Just something light before we move on to the heavy stuff again.

V's arm itched. Keeping it covered helped to put it out of her mind, but the temptation to scratch it through the sleeve of her hoodie lingered like crazy. With two tattoos already on her she knew that doing so was a bad idea, but it didn't make it any easier to ignore, especially when all she had to do was lift the sleeve to get to it.

After seeing so many bright and lively variations of Saints pride floating around it'd only made sense to get inked too, so when the idea hit her and finally stuck she let it carry her all the way to Rusty's.

The artist there didn't ask too many questions when she picked out the design from the ones they offered, and lucky for her it only required one session to complete. Still, getting it had been a bit impulsive on her end, even if it had turned out pretty sweet.

Sammy was smoking in one of the corners of the church, idly talking to another Saint she hadn't met yet, and V shook her arm out as she approached them. “Yo, Sam.”

He glanced up and gave her a smile. “What's up, girl? Enjoying your time off?”

“I was, but it gets old after a while. Figured I'd drop by and be social for a bit.”

“Yeah, I get you.”

He held out a cigarette for her to take and she took a seat by the two, lighting it quickly while the woman he was with eyed her curiously. “Who's your friend?”

“Well, shit. You haven't met yet? This is Dee. She's with Troy's crew.”

Dee gave her a small wave and folded her feet under her. She looked Hispanic or mixed, and her short platinum hair was one of the lightest shades she'd ever seen. “You're V, eh? Having fun racing around?”

“When the car isn't falling apart around me, sure,” she joked, remembering how the last one nearly caught fire after a nasty accident. “They don't make the damn things like they used to.”

She laughed. “No, they don't. Probably why I opt to stay out of shit like that. My driving blows, and the last thing I need is to get sardined for it.”

Sammy leaned towards V. “For real, don't ever hitch a ride from her.”

That got him a quick kick from Dee, and V snickered as the two challenged each other. “Don't listen to half the shit coming out of his mouth. He can barely drive stick.”

“No worries there,” V teased, rolling her sleeves up to give her tattoo some air. "And you aren't lying about the stick bit. Burns the clutch like crazy."

Sammy gave her the finger, but whistled when he saw what she had been hiding. “That's new.”

“Can I?” Dee took her wrist and V let them both get a good look at the fine lines covering the top of her forearm.

“It's a week old. Got it while I had a day or two to fuck around.” Dee gently turned it to the side and V had to admire the outline of the wings gracing her. The tat was easily the most elegant thing she had now. “It hasn't been too bad, but there are times when I watch to scratch it raw. Drives me nuts.”

“Didn't want to go for the fleur?”

“Wasn't feeling it at the time,” she said, taking a decent drag off of her cigarette. “There's always later, right?”

She smiled and let V's arm go. “Smart girl. I was a few days in and let my adrenaline do the thinking when I got mine.” Her fingers hooked the loop of her jeans and pulled them down far enough to expose a large violet fleur de lis. The long T-shirt kept the top part of it hidden, but V guessed it had to cover a good quarter of her hip. “I might've overdone it.”

“Looks gorgeous, though,” V said, admiring it. “Tough to show off, but if I had something like that I think I'd make it work.”

“I try to do it justice. Just got to catch me at the right time if you want a real show.” Dee winked at her and let it disappear out of sight. "Great for parties, public and private."

V was definitely smiling at this point. “Good to know.”

Sammy cleared his throat. “I hate to break this up, but they were asking about you earlier, V. Had some work, I think.”

“Shit, why didn't you say so?” V asked, putting out her cig before getting to her feet.

“Got distracted. Can't fault me for that, right?”

“No, guess I can't, but you're buying me dinner later. For the trouble.”

“You're buying us both dinner, actually,” Dee told him, checking her nails. “You still owe me for the fuck up I got you out of last week, and I think a steak dinner would be just the thing to make it up to me. Sound good to you too, V?”

Sammy put his face in his hands and V giggled. “Relax, man. As amazing as that sounds I think we can aim for somewhere cheaper. Phuc Mi Phuc Yue work?”

“Yeah, yeah, just get out of here,” he said, waving her off. “Troy's in the usual spot.”

She had a bit of a hop to her step as she cut down the hall leading to the offices and slowed down when she spotted Troy and Johnny. They were both sitting at the desk, a couple of beers cracked open by them and V paused by the doorway. Gat was laughing about something, and Troy was doing his hardest not to be amused by any of it.

She knocked twice on the wall and she seriously hoped she wasn't interrupting anything too important. “Hey, uh, hi?”

Troy aimed his amused expression at her and waved her inside. “Hey. Been meaning to catch you.”

V shoved her hands in her pockets and wandered forward, keeping her movements as casual as possible. “Would've been by earlier, but Sam wanted to talk my ear off.”

“Sure you weren't showing off? Noticed you finally stopped by Rusty's.” Gat said, his eyes moving over her.

 _Shit._ She glanced down at her uncovered arm and had to stop herself from jerking the sleeve back down. “Um. Yeah. Was going to happen at some point. Figured now was good.”

Troy exhaled, and V tried not to stare at the tattoo on his own arm. “Sting much?”

“Nah, not too bad. It's the itching that's the problem.”

“Not as bad as the other one?”

He tapped his shoulder and V felt her face warm a bit. “You caught that? Not much gets by you, eh?”

Johnny chuckled and Troy pursed his lips, but didn't say anything in response. Pushing her nervousness down, she unzipped her hoodie and slipped it off, turning around to give them both a better look. The twin fish swimming on her right shoulder blade were done in white, standing out just enough to be noticed.

“Got it done as soon as anyone would take me. Should probably get it touched up, but I keep on putting it off.”

“Why that one?”

Troy would ask. “Looked good. When it's your first do you need any other reason why?” She tugged the hoodie back on after a minute, and tried not to shuffle around on her feet too much. “Probably should've skipped the one on my neck, though.”

“Guy con you into it?” Johnny asked, smirking.

She nodded and tried not to remember the hangover that came with it. “Drunken tats are never a good idea, because anything sounds good when you're oozing out of the seat or trying not to throw up. At least that didn't turn into too bad of a disaster.”

“Can do worse than a star. Knew a guy that tried to get his girl's face over his heart, but missed the step where he was supposed to stay still and quit being a douchebag,” Johnny said, leaning forward in his chair. “The guy doing it wasn't too happy about it, so he left a little surprise waiting for him.”

“What?”

“Put his face there instead. Close enough, right?”

“Shit,” Troy said, wincing. “That must've gone over well.”

“Nah, he tried to beat the shit out of him, but by then the owner was asking for protection. Had to step in and negotiate. Settle things down. Shotgun's pretty good at that.”

It didn't take an active imagination to see how that had gone. “Ouch. Not much left of him to ID after, I guess. Clean up must've been fun too.” Gat shrugged, but the glint in his eye made her hair stand on end. “So, Troy. You had something for me?”

He switched his attention away from Johnny and sat up. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me. You've done good work with the cars lately. Impressed Miguel and word's gotten around.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out. “Got more work in Chinatown if you're interested.”

“Interested? Hell yeah.” The scrawled number was difficult to read, but she could make out the gist of it. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You're good at what you do, so why wouldn't I send this your way?”

The compliment made her avert her eyes, and she started backing towards the door. “I'll get right on it then. Anything else you want me to check out?”

“Not for now. Keep an eye on your phone, though. You never know when something'll pop up.”

“Cool,” she said, mock-saluting them. “Catch you two later then.”

She nearly bumped into Dex on the way out, and she babbled an apology as she ducked around him. Johnny's laugh followed her down the hall, and she tugged her hat down.

It didn't do a thing to hide how red she was, but that didn't matter much. She was too busy trying to figure her way around the swell of pride that had settled in her chest.


	21. What's left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done to take a shot at another prompt on the kmeme, so Troy visits the boss in the hospital while they're in their coma. The trick here is that this is not too long after what went down at the end of SR1.

It took him a few weeks before he could work up the nerve to go to the hospital. That first step inside nearly made him pull a one-eighty and march out, but he wanted to know. On some level he needed to know, and the only way to find out was to get his answers from the doctor himself instead of through hearsay at work.

The department would cut it down to the essentials also. Was she dead or alive? Was she awake? Both would get a yes or no answer and leave it at that. They wouldn't tell him just how bad the burns were, or the lengths it would take to keep her healthy and comfortable.

No, he wanted to know. Even if that knowledge would be as reassuring as a knife to the ribs.

The nurse at the front initially gave his badge a wary look, but when Troy specified who he was visiting, her expression changed entirely. “I'll get the doctor if he's available. Please wait.”

He'd dressed down on purpose, but this was still police business, at least on the surface. He'd been one of the men on the scene. He'd also been one of the men closest to her in the gang. While one flew, the other didn't, and he hoped this wouldn't go too far up the chain. Half the department didn't know what to do with him right now, while the other kept on wanting to sing his praises, and he wasn't sure what he wanted to hear from them any more.

The wait stretched just long enough for him to want a cigarette, and he rubbed his fingers together as an older man exchanged a few words with the nurse he'd talked to. He then waved him over. “Officer?”

“Doctor Scott?”

“That's right, son.” He shook the man's hand. “Come this way.”

The two walked down the busy halls towards what Troy guessed was his office, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, one hand holding onto the pack of cigarettes waiting for him. When they kept on going, his grip tightened, and by the time they had stopped outside of one room in particular he knew he'd crushed it.

Hospital security was waiting outside, and while he knew why, he had to stop from asking them, 'Why the fuck for?' She wasn't about to get up and walk out, or shoot her way out. Still, judging by the way the guy refused to relax that was what he believed, and would keep on believing for as long as he was posted there. He kept on checking his pockets and gear, and all his fidgeting put Troy on edge, even if he had no reason to be.

Doctor Scott waited as Troy dug his badge out again - _might as well flash it just to be safe –_ and the guard let them go inside.

He took one step in, and then another, and then he couldn't move anymore.

The doctor was talking to him, going over specifics, running down her treatment regimen, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Off of the person that was her, bandaged and hooked up to too many things he didn't know shit about.

It made him think of that night. How they pulled her out of the bay, and he felt cold again. Cold and absolutely helpless in every regard.

“She can't stay here much longer, Officer,” Scott said after a moment, tapping his fingers on her file.

He tore his eyes away from her to stare the doctor down. “What are you talking about?”

“We took her in on short notice and that was fine, because the burns she sustained needed treatment. If we hadn't there's no guarantee she would've made it. However, now that the treatment's coming along, it would be in the hospital's best interest to relocate her.”

“...Because you think she'd be a danger to the others.”

“Think?” He raised an eyebrow at Troy's flat tone. “This woman's been on the news for almost a week straight. She still hasn't shown any signs of consciousness, but I'm a doctor. It's my job to take care of my patients and ensure that they will receive proper care.”

“While also keeping them safe. No, I understand,” Troy said, letting his eyes go to her again. “We'll help transfer her to Stilwater Pen. They can take up the reins from there.”

“Good. We'll send along the paperwork so that can get started. Was there anything else you wanted to know? I believe my summary's already been filed-”

“Can I have a moment? Just to say a few words.”

The doctor's sympathetic expression was almost unexpected, and Troy felt himself frown in response. “Of course. I'll be outside.”

When the door shut behind him, Troy almost felt frozen to the spot. With the beeping of the heart monitor as the only sound in the room, he found it hard to breathe, and the shaky sound that came out of his mouth wasn't one that he wanted to hear.

He forced himself to turn and approach her, walking up to the side of her bed.

It was worse there, but he'd made it this far. He wasn't going to opt out of this just because he couldn't muster up the fucking nerve to stand close to her. To look down and-

His hands twitched in his pockets and he wanted to touch her. Couldn't even do that.

A small laugh slipped out and he turned his face towards the ground as he tried to compose himself. The vice tightening in his chest wasn't letting up either, and he knew he couldn't be in here much longer.

“Hey,” he tried, keeping his voice steady. “I, uh, I don't even fucking know how to start this. Um, the doctor's told me that you're doing good. Making progress.”

There was no way to tell with the bandages. There was too much white, on the walls, and on her. She'd hate this room and how sterile it was, and he was starting to hate it too.

“They're going to move you to the Pen. I don't know if I'll be able to fight it, but I'll see what I can do. If I can do something. I need to do something. Anything.”

“ _Where the fuck are you? Look, I understand that sometimes shit comes up, but we need you. I need you. Please, pick up. Please. ...Troy?”_

“God, I've fucked up. I've fucked up everything, haven't I?” Troy scrubbed a hand over his eyes and made himself step away. “I'm sorry, I-” He couldn't form the words. Not even now. He shook his head and went straight for the door.

* * *

“Oh, hi. Did you need anything?” the nurse at the front asked, puzzled that he was back again so soon.

“Yeah, I was wondering if there was a way to get flowers. Common courtesy and all that.”

The nurse slapped a smile onto her face and Troy knew she was picking up something strange. He just didn't give a fuck right now. “Of course. You can have flowers delivered directly to their room. Any in particular you have in mind?”

“...No.” He drew a blank. Nothing stood out in his mind at that moment at all. “Nothing. It's just flowers, right? Shouldn't matter.”

The nurse didn't know how to react to the bitterness there and her smile faltered.

“Nothing much to them at all,” he murmured, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he walked out.


	22. What you have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place somewhere in the middle of the Ronin storyline in SR2, but in the suburbs strip club stronghold. Wanted to get some more Johnny down, because I've missed writing him.

It was too loud. Too loud and there were still too many fuckers in front of her wearing yellow.

Her SMG went off, sweeping from left to right, but it did nothing. At least that's what it felt like as V ducked back into cover. Johnny was within arms reach of her and she couldn't even begin to count the number of casings hitting the ground around him. When he had no choice but to stop and reload, she darted back up and kept up the fight, not wanting to give them even a moment of peace. They hadn't earned it, and she wasn't about to let them have it.

“You think they'll ever try to get a lap dance here again?” she asked when she had a chance to speak again. Only one clip was left on her, but she wasn't worried about a shortage of guns or ammunition with what was going down around them. Maybe to jazz things up a bit she could steal one of their fancy swords. At least three had caught her eye before she'd crouched down behind the table, and it wasn't like they were going to use them again.

“Don't know, don't fucking care,” Gat threw out, his attention fixed in front of him.

His assault came to an abrupt stop when his bullets ran out, and he threw the rifle to the side with an angry yell. She tossed him her SMG, loaded and ready to go, and skidded across the floor to the next spot with proper cover. The strip club didn't seem to have a lot of it, but all she needed was a place that disrupted their line of sight.

A body was slumped within a foot of her and she snagged their pistol, ejecting the clip to check if there was anything left. She glanced up in the middle of counting the bullets down, and felt a wave of panic rise as Johnny cleared their cover completely to deal with the remaining Ronin left standing. The gun shook as she took aim, and she managed to score two hits before he absently mowed them down, not even acknowledging the shots that had grazed the air by him.

“Fuck,” she breathed, lowering her weapon. It trembled in her hand, and she sat there staring dumbly at him as he fired his last few rounds into a nearby body. When the SMG was empty, he dropped it to the floor and grabbed one of the discarded shotguns, checking to see if it was loaded. V barely had time to grab extra ammo herself before he was heading up the stairs, oblivious to everything but what was standing in front of him.

She scrambled to get to her feet, his name caught in her throat, and took the stairs two at a time until she was left with nothing but more spent casings and dead bodies. The sound of gunfire carried her after that, and she nearly ran over two more Ronin in her rush to find Johnny.

The one in front of her drew her sword, and V ducked to the side as the other tried to draw a bead on her. The katana nicked the wall by her head, and V caught the woman's arm when she tried to bring the sword back up again. The headbutt that followed threw the Ronin off balance, and V threw her handgun at the other's face. It hit his nose, making red go everywhere, and V used the advantage to steal the lost sword and jam it into his stomach.

The graceful weapon wasn't meant for this, but there were some days when couldn't finesse her way out of a paper bag. Today was one of them. V tried to yank the katana out, and had to plant a boot on the guy to give her the leverage needed to do so. He fell, and V ended up dropping the sword for her gun anyway just as the other Ronin had regained her footing. She only had enough time to throw out something in Japanese before V sent a bullet her way for her troubles. 

Then she was running again. Johnny wasn't present, but she could still hear him continuing the fight. Turning one last corner, she caught sight of the stairs leading to the roof and rushed towards them, ignoring the way her lungs had begun to burn. Gat wasn't far ahead once the purple of his shirt caught her eye, and she didn't think, just acted as she flew forward to dive for his midsection. Plaster flew as they fell out of sight, and V's gun was back in her hand by the time she darted back up to retaliate.

It only took one shot for her to send the Ronin over the edge of the roof and the second he disappeared, V felt something clamp down hard on her wrist. Johnny shoved her down, her back slamming against the brick, and she felt something unfamiliar rise up as he towered over her. Fear.

“The fuck was that?” he asked, his voice even.

That made her heart beat even faster. “Saving your stupid ass from getting shot. What do you think?”

“Do I look hurt to you?”

“Don't even fucking try to throw that at me,” she spat, trying to ignore the way her voice wavered. “You were up as soon as the meds allowed it, and I see you've completely forgotten about the stitches you've probably ripped. Great work there.”

His grip tightened, making her wince, and the minute that crossed her face he quickly let go. “You're supposed to stay behind me.”

“Side by side or nothing, you ass. That's how we do things.”

“...Fucking moron.” Gat tried to get mad again, but it couldn't cover the way he'd regarded her in that moment.

V watched him glance over their cover, her heart hammering away. Then she saw it. The dark red spot spreading out on his side. “Johnny.”

“There's four left. They're on the ground,” he said, not even fazed.

“Johnny. I think something tore.”

“Figures. Got to take those motherfuckers out first, though.” V pushed herself up onto her elbows and put a hand to his side. He pulled away with a snarl. “Fucking drop it!”

“Fuck that. You're doing exactly what I say the minute we leave this place.” Johnny stared her down, and V bared her teeth. “I'm not asking.”

“Fine,” he said, turning towards the Ronin waiting below.

“Fine.” She stood up and opened fire.

* * *

He had trouble making it down the stairs by the time the Ronin had finally been picked off, the adrenaline carrying them no longer running through their systems. She had one of his arms draped over her shoulders as she guided him down, and he swore at her every step of the way. She swore just as loudly back, angry that things were stuck at this point instead of where they should've been. With him by her side, healthy, ready to get to work on the next target.

Instead they were arguing as he bled and it was too close to that night. His blood had been on her hands once, and she wasn't ready to have it on her again.

V handed him a hoodie she'd picked up from one of the abandoned seats, and made him hold it down over the wound as they drove back to her place. They were already failing nursing 101 she was sure, but the improvised bandage seemed to work well enough, and that was okay with her for now.

The minute they got through the door to her tiny apartment, Johnny let it fall to the floor, and V went straight for the medical bag stashed in her bathroom. Everything came back out with her, and she cracked it open on her dining room table so she could dig out the essentials. With the bandages in hand, she went back to Johnny – still standing in the same spot she'd left him - and tried to tug at his ruined shirt. “Johnny, this needs to come off.”

He brushed her hands away. “I'll take care of it.”

“Yeah, like you were before?”

He stepped back and when she tried to get closer, he put even more distance between them. “Was doing fine until you tackled me, but the fuck do I know?”

V wavered for a second, then pushed past her guilt anyway. “I'm a fucking idiot, okay? But that's not helping you bleed any slower. Let me help.”

“No.” Johnny started to walk off and V grabbed his arm. “Get that off of me.”

“No,” she replied.

“I'm not playing, boss.”

“So why do you think I am, eh? Maybe it's not getting through your fucking skull, so let me spell it out for you. I need you up and moving, and not bleeding all over the place due to something as stupid as wounded pride.”

He turned back around and stepped right into her space, his face twisted into a sneer. “It ain't fucking pride-”

“Then it's you being a reckless, selfish prick! Didn't you hear me? I said that I _needed_ you, and I am not going to stand by while you bleed to death all over me again. I-I can't do that. Not again.” She shook her head as he fell silent, his hands slack by his sides. “I can't do this without you, you know. I can't.”

“You could.”

“What if I don't want to _?_ ” Her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes. “Call me weak, or whatever, but I don't.”

He didn't. He didn't say anything at all. V opened her eyes to find him rooted there, some of that same expression from the roof of the strip club present, and she didn't know what to do with it.

So, she avoided it, pulling enough of her anger back to use it. That was territory she could work with, and she drew her mouth into a thin line. “Are we done?”

Gat raised his chin, but nodded.

“Good.” She shoved the bandages into his hands and pointed at the couch. “Now hold these and sit the fuck down.”

His grip tightened on them, but he took a seat and let her get his shirt off. The stitches had begun to tear, but not too badly and she pulled the kit over to clean them. Johnny didn't say a word as she did so, tensing only a couple of times as she worked, and when she told him to help her wrap the bandages around him he did so without complaint.

The tight expression on his face told her he wanted to do anything but, but she gave him a grateful look anyway as she secured it. “You're lucky my asshole move didn't hurt you too bad.”

“Why?”

“Because then I'd have to actually do some doctoring, and I've got a pretty shitty bedside manner.”

The corner of his mouth tried to turn up. “I can fucking believe it. You start talking bedpans and I'm throwing your ass out.”

“Tut, tut. No need to be rude,” she said, smirking. “Though if you still need me to hold your hand from time to time, I wouldn't mind.”

“Fuck off.” There. Gat was smiling now, and she felt her shoulders relax. “You got anything good to drink around here?”

“Good? No. Decent? Maybe.” She wandered over into the kitchen to wash her hands and checked her fridge. Only the cheap beer she'd dipped into the night before stared back at her. Three bottles were left, and she shrugged before pulling two out. “Okay, so borderline decent. That work for you?”

“Eh, whatever.”

V cracked them open and handed him one, taking a seat next to him on the lumpy sofa. He made a face, but drank it slowly as she turned the television on to something worthwhile. Or at least tolerable. Bobby and Amber popped up and she glanced over at him for his approval.

Johnny leaned back and chuckled. “You know I don't give a shit, right?”

“Yeah, but I still ask anyway.”

“Heh.” He took a longer drink, and V decided to limit him to one just so he wouldn't have to manage a hangover too. “Some days you don't make any fucking sense.”

Her nails picked at the label on her beer, peeling it off, bit by bit. “And others?”

“You just do.”

V chewed on her lip as she switched her attention back to the show and it took her a few seconds to notice him holding out his bottle to her. It didn't click at first, but when it did she lifted hers and let them touch.

The tiny clink that resulted from her mini-toast barely counted as a sound, but it made him grin anyway.


	23. Room for improvement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR1 stuff, past the initial reclamation, but not far after that at all. Just a small chance to knock Troy on the way he holds his gun. For shame.

“Shit.” V's hand trembled as she examined her last shot, still off by a foot or so. It was better than the previous one, but when you started off bad, moving up from awful wasn't a huge feat.

With a few weeks under her belt at the improvised range set up in the back of the church she'd hoped to see more improvement. Instead, she was sure that the range was trying to pull as much blood, sweat, and tears from her as possible. She swore again when her adjustments did nothing, and the only other guy at the range with her gave her a wary look before going back to his own shooting. When he hit the bulls-eye her frustration hit a peak, making her shots even more wild.

“Fucking hell,” she said, reloading slowly. It was like her run with Julius and Troy again. The adrenaline had kept her moving, but it hadn't done anything for her aim until she'd picked up a VK's SMG. The great thing about it? More shots, more hits. The bad thing about it? No real need to aim. So, while the two men had been okay with her run, she'd gotten through it on sheer dumb luck alone, and she was not going to give them another chance to find out just how shitty she was.

Besides, she had a nice handgun to continue breaking in, and she wasn't about to let it gather dust. Not after the cash Troy had put forward for it.

She turned the gun over as she checked it, and had to admire it. The afternoon sun caught it just right and she shook her head. “Shame, really. Pretty thing like you stuck with me? I'm so sorry.”

“Don't know about that, kid.” Her heart jumped and she clapped a hand over her mouth as she turned around. Troy didn't exactly announce his presence, and now was no exception, as he stood with his cigarette between his fingers. “You're acting like the thing's cursed with you.”

V flushed and held up the weapon in question. “It is. And that's not even getting into the fact that you wasted your money on a gun that I can't use properly. Would've been better off getting me a hose.”

Troy thought that over as her silent companion skulked off, and she noticed that seemed to be a thing that happened whenever he'd enter a room. You either stood up straighter or made yourself scarce, because there was fucking up, and then there was fucking up in front of Julius's number two. It wasn't going to do you any favors in the long term.

Hell, it wasn't doing her any favors. She was racking up idiot points left and right, and wondered if Troy would ever call her on it. He seemed like a decent guy, but that kind of patience had to run out at some point, and she did not want it to be because of her screw ups.

“That's a special order. Better not to fuck around with that,” he said, taking a few steps closer. “What's bothering you?”

She sighed. “I'm kind of shit at this. Which is why I asked for a hose, because SMGs really are a lot more forgiving. Or maybe I just don't have the patience for this.”

“Aiming? Thought all you had to do was keep it in front of you and pull the trigger.” She rolled her eyes and he crossed his arms. “It's not supposed to be easy. Some take to it better than others, but it's not like in the movies.”

“Even with half of the Hollywood style shit you guys keep on pulling?” She mimicked his stance as she pretended to aim at the target and fire. “Stuff that shouldn't work, but does? You've all got some fucking secrets to share then.”

“Is that how I do it?”

A grin eased its way onto his face and she nearly fumbled her response. “Yeah. You tilt your fucking gun to that stupid angle and it still manages to do exactly what you want it to do.”

He laughed and that made it even worse. “Stupid, eh? Show me how it's supposed to be done then.”

“Still working on that, chief,” V mumbled, hefting the gun in her right hand. The two shots she let off were some of the worst she'd seen that day, she let out a noise of frustration. It was him. It was all him, and she felt the hole that she was digging get even deeper.

“Hey, you hit the target. That's better than most.” She gave Troy a withering look, but he shrugged it off. “I mean it. You want to know something else? Your grouping's pretty good. Even though they were off, they're still close together, so just adjust your aim and you should be able to pull off some mean double-taps.”

That was a compliment. “Mean ones? You're reaching.”

He took one last drag of his cigarette and crushed it under his heel. “Reaching would be telling you you're a few practices away from the Olympics. Here, you're not bad. At least if you aim at a guy and shoot twice you'll hit him in the same spot, right?”

A compliment wrapped in a lovely sarcastic bow. She kind of liked that. “Shut up. That's a nice way of saying I'm not entirely a lost cause.”

“Not the one you think you are.” He walked up and tapped her left elbow. “Use your other arm to steady your hand. You're shaking just enough to throw your shot off, and until your main arm's good enough to stand on its own this is the only thing that'll help. You need to build up your basics before you add a flourish.”

She adjusted her hold, but he had to step in again, this time to fix her grip. It didn't take long, but she wondered just when she'd started holding her breath. “...Like this?”

“Yep. Get used to that for a while and it'll help. Though your posture's off-” He put a hand on her back and she went rigid. “You've got to relax. The recoil's going to be bad enough, but you can't respond well if you're too busy waiting for it.”

Then he tried fixing her shoulders and she knew she was going to chew a hole through her lip. “Sure.”

“Sure?” He raised an eyebrow and she made a point not to look right at him. “That's making me feel confident. You want a better demonstration?”

 _Yes. No._ V didn't answer and he continued.

“You've got to watch your feet too. Being aware of where they are is pretty fucking important.” Troy lightly kicked the back of one of her boots and she moved it into what she hoped was the right position. “Okay. You got it?”

“Yeah.” He let go and she let herself breathe for a bit before focusing her aim. Then she fired. It was off still, but she made a quick correction and tried again. The improvement showed and she had to smile.

“Looking good, kid. Keep up with that, and you'll be a pro in no time.”

“Now you're laying it on a bit thick,” she said, glancing over at him.

“Sure.” The corner of his mouth curved up, and she flashed him the finger. “What? You never know.”

“Where's my gold star then, teach?” she asked, putting the gun away.

He lit a new cigarette and by the time he exhaled she found her fingers itching for one. “Got to earn it first. Unless you want one for effort?”

“Bite me. Can I get a cigarette instead?”

It took him a moment, but instead of reaching for the pack in his pocket, he slipped a hand into the pocket of her hoodie. The pack was out before she could think of swearing at him, and he held the cigarette out almost innocently.

She took it – making sure to snag the pack back too - and tried not to think about the fact that he knew which pocket to pick. Then decided to pull an actual dare. “Got a light?”

Her lighter was in her other pocket. Her jean pocket. Troy's eyes flicked to the one in question briefly, and for a second she believed he might actually go for it. Bastard knew exactly where it was, and only needed to take it.

...But all he did was reach for his own, each motion calm and measured. A small part of her was actually disappointed at that.

It flashed and she turned away as soon as her cigarette was lit. “Thanks. Got any other bits of wisdom to share?”

“Yeah, plenty,” he said, heading back towards the church. “Maybe for next time, eh?”

V blew out a long stream of smoke and kept her smile hidden until he'd left. “Maybe.”


	24. Sing that jingle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR1, something silly with the illusion of plot. Still early in the game timeline, though.

“Is that a bus?” V put her tray down at the table Dex and Troy were sitting at outside, and lo and behold, a schoolbus was parked right in the Freckle Bitch's drive-thru lane. “What the fuck? We never got to do that.”

“I, uh, don't think that's supposed to be a common thing,” Troy said, watching the scene with horrified interest. The window asked for their order and yells started coming at it from every angle. “Fuck. That's going to take a while.”

Dex took a bite of his burger and shook his head. “And the line behind them's going to give the girl hell too. Fucking shame.”

“I'm so glad to be done with that crap. That would've ruined my week, easy.” V picked up her burger and pulled the pickles out, only noticing their curious expressions after the second one hit her tray. “Really. It sucked.”

“You worked here?” Troy asked, pointing right at the front doors. “At Freckle Bitch's? Behind the counter, in the window, all that?”

V leaned forward on her elbows. “Hell, I did time in the truck. Drove the fucking thing around and nearly flipped it. Could've crushed a few kids with the hamburger bun in the back too, but they dodged it. Fun times.”

The shock on Dex's face lingered for a bit then faded into pure amusement. “That is fucking priceless. Never would've pegged you for one of their girls.”

“I'm a redhead with freckles. They didn't want to pass that up, and I was desperate for cash, so...”

“Freckles? I know you've got a few, but I don't know if we're talking mascot-grade.” Dex said, checking her over.

“She's covered in them. Not that hard to miss, man.” Troy popped a fry into his mouth and almost missed the incredulous look that Dex was aiming at him. “What?”

“Can we switch topics?” V asked, half tempted to pull her hat down. “Or just go back to freckle bitches that aren't me?”

Dex rubbed his temples and sighed. “Yeah, sure. It's just crazy to be talking about this shit, you know?”

“This is kinda the Saints' stomping ground, isn't it? Maybe it was just meant to be. You're all lucky I can still stomach the food after finding out what goes into it, but every time I hear one of the damn commercials I want to rip my radio out.”

She reached over to steal a few of Troy's fries and he didn't bother to slap her hand away. “Can't imagine why you wouldn't be a fan.”

“You've heard this shit. Just imagine having to say it day in and day out for a whole damn year. We had it down to the point where I was reciting it in my sleep. My first words for the day would be about the Big Swallow, or the Twins. I'd get drunk and go on about the specials to the first person who'd walk up to me, and I know they wondered if I was trying to come on to them.”

“Couldn't have been that bad.” Dex said, dismissing it.

_You just had to do that didn't you? Damn._ After that there was no way they weren't getting a demonstration.

V cleared her throat and jumped right in. “Welcome to Freckle Bitch's, where you can't beat our meat! What's been on your mind today? Do you have the need to grip two sizable pieces of our bazooms in your hands, or is that not enough? Are you thinking of something larger? Leaner? Fuller? I know I have been, and boy do I have something in mind for you.”

Troy rolled his eyes and V amped up her breathy tone just for him.

“It's something we save for our special customers. A hot beef injection the likes you've never seen.” Dex was trying not to laugh, and V just kept on going. “The way it just slides down your throat, you'll relish the finish. The way the flavor just explodes in your mouth.”

She moaned loud enough that anyone within earshot could hear her and Troy nearly choked on his soda. Dex lost it at that point, and she stood up to give both a polite bow as they struggled to compose themselves. The family sitting nearby wasn't as gracious as they shooed their children away into their minivan, but she didn't care. They heard worse on network TV every day, or at least she did when she was a kid. Who knew what they hell they were listening to now.

“You're kidding. You did not actually say any of that shit to people,” Dex asked, wiping his eyes.

“Oh yeah. I did, and if I wanted to rake in the cash I did it with a smile.” She sat down and winked at Troy who'd just recovered from his coughing fit, but he didn't play along. Instead his lips were drawn into a thin line, and she wasn't sure what to do with that. “Customer satisfaction guaranteed after all.”

Dex laughed again and she moved her attention back to him. “For real? I know the girls at the O-Rings got creative whenever a mike was nearby, but not like that.”

“There was a script, but some days it was more entertaining to put your own spin on things. When you're bored and no one's buying you let your mind wander, and it can come up with some wild stuff. Didn't always go well though, because even with the script it always seemed like I was trying to proposition someone.” She sipped more of her milkshake and sighed. “God, I felt like a phone sex operator.”

“Saying shit like that? I'm not surprised,” Troy replied, still avoiding her eyes.

“I did exaggerate some parts, but you've all heard the commercials. It's a little fucked up, and we haven't even gone over the products.” Her hand checked her funbag, and she pulled out the toy waiting for her. “Ooh, lucky me. A pearl necklace.”

Troy stood up and grabbed the tray in front of him, shoving most of their trash onto it. “Lucky you. Don't we have business to go over?”

“Yeah, yeah. No need to rush,” Dex said to his back as he went towards the trash cans. “Ruffled him good there.”

V fiddled with the plastic wrapped around the necklace and shrugged. “How would you feel if you almost choked to death at a Freckle Bitch's? I think I'd be a little pissed.”

“Especially after hearing that? It'd be a hell of a way to go.” Dex pulled out a small map and V put the toy aside to examine the notes scratched onto it. “But he does have a point. Can't mix business with too much pleasure.”

She'd seen this map before, or one like it hung back at the church. This one was rougher around the edges, and she could see that Dex had changed a few things since the last time she had seen it. The gangs had the city pretty evenly split, but things were changing. Purple had weaved its way in, and V hoped to see a lot more of it before their work was done.

“I've been hearing rumors that there's a factory that the Carnales have been staking out for their weapons. Got quite the operation going, and they're churning out shit left and right. The thing about this place is that we have no idea what kind of resistance we're talking about. There's heavy, and then there's metric fucktons of heavy. That's where you come in. We need someone to get close and clear things up. Give us more of an idea of what we're working with.”

“Sounds like fun. You want me to slip in and be all stealthy? I can try that-”

“No, none of that ninja shit,” Troy interrupted, not bothering to sit back down. “I'm sending a few of my crew with you, and all you're going to do is drive by, get a closer look, and leave. Nothing else.”

“You're sending some babysitters with me? Why the fuck for?” she asked, getting irritated.

“To keep you covered while you do. Check your pride at the door, kid, because a factory like that is going to be packed full of shit ready to kill you. Anyone that goes near it is going to have a crew with them.”

“Anyone's right. Even Johnny.” Dex circled the spot with his finger and tapped it. “You've got to be careful with this. Right now we can handle what they're throwing at us, but we don't need any extra heat from them if we can avoid it. Got it?”

V tried to keep the scowl off of her face, but knew it was slipping through. “Got it.”

* * *

“He really knows how to piss me off some days,” V muttered to herself as she checked her pistol. “Pushes my buttons and drives me up a wall in no time flat.”

“Who?” Dee asked, peeking over the side of the passenger seat. “Stu do something stupid again?”

“No, it's...it's nothing. Just silly shit. I'm surprised you two aren't complaining much.”

“About what?”

Luis took the next turn calmly, and V perched herself between both of their seats. “Taking me out here.”

Dee grinned. “Ah, that's what's up. You know if you want to bitch him out now I won't stop you, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It just makes me mad that he doesn't trust me to handle this by myself.” All the protective older guardian bullshit bothered her too, but only because Troy would push it on her then top it all off by calling her kid. “I'm not five and about to hit my first tilt-a-whirl.”

“But you really can't sneak worth shit. Sorry to break it to you, sweets,” Dee said. “That's why we're all here wearing blue and keeping our damn fingers crossed. You've got to have an escape plan. Though he sure knows how to pick 'em, because if he really wanted you to behave responsibly he wouldn't have sent us.”

Luis laughed, and even V had to smile. “She makes a great point, eh?”

“Why do you think I avoid arguing with her? I lose that fight before I begin it.” V checked her gun for the last time and slipped it into her usual hiding place as Luis dimmed the lights. He pulled the car off of the road into the brush down the way from the factory and she felt ready to jump out of the seat. “We are so getting blasted after this.”

“Promise?” Dee asked, staring ahead at what waited for them.

V nodded. “Only if you remember the limes.”

Once the car was about as hidden as it could get, all three made their way across the road, and jumped the fence leading to the factory's scrapyard. Frames of old trucks and other assorted crap littered the area, and they moved quickly and quietly through cover as they listened for any voices.

Luis held up a hand and pointed to one man hanging by the scrapyard's only building. It appeared to be an office, but no lights were on, and from here it was hard to tell if he was even flying Carnales colors.

“Hey,” Dee whispered. “I think he's that bum that hangs by the church on Tuesdays. See the bottle? That's his hooch.”

V couldn't make out the type of bottle, but he did look familiar. She also did the mental math and realized that today was a Thursday. “Wonder if he makes the rounds with the others too.”

“It'll remain a mystery,” Luis replied, urging them to move forward.

The man didn't even bother to acknowledge them as they passed him, and when Luis motioned for them to get down V fell flat on her face. She turned to the side when she was sure that she wasn't being shot at and felt her breath burn in her lungs. The large pile of dirt loomed before them, and off to their left there was a small flash of light that flickered then disappeared.

_A lighter?_ V waited for it to come back and it did, in another person's hand. Two of them. _Shit._

She didn't want to move, but Dee crawled forward up towards the hill and Luis nudged her in the shoulder until she did so as well. The men were too caught up in their conversation to glance their way, and the black, starless sky above gave them just enough cover to be brave. ...And stupid, but hell, no one ever got a plan done by thinking about it.

The amount of noise they were making should've been enough to set someone off, but no one said a thing as they kept on going, and when they reached the top V almost didn't know what to do with the opportunity.

“V,” Luis hissed. “Want to make with the photos now, or later when we're bleeding out?”

“Screw you, man.” She started digging for her phone and eased it across the dirt beneath them until it was in front of her. “Wait. This thing isn't fucking silent.”

“You serious?” Dee let out a good string of things V hadn't heard in a while and pushed her phone her way. “Hurry up, okay?”

Time slowed to a stop as each photo was set up and taken, and V felt the damn thing begin to quake in her hands. Luis touched her forearm, then held it, and she took three more before calling it done. When the phone was safely back with Dee, V took the chance to stare at the pipes stretching up towards the sky. Strange how she'd driven by this spot so many times, but only now really had a chance to look at it.

“Can we get the fuck out of here now?”

Dee's words brought her back and V realized they'd been up here for a long time. Much longer than what was probably healthy. “Yeah. Sounds good. Now to see if we can we can make this work without me choking on the last step. What do you think?”

“Best two out of three.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

Turns out she only needed one. That never happened, and the minute they crawled back into their getaway car she highfived both of them and tried not to faint in the backseat.

The radio crackled to life as they merged back into traffic, and V knew the voice before it was able to finish a sentence. _“-and I'm all grown-up now. So, why don't you stop on by-”_

“You know what?” she asked no one in particular. “Why don't we?”

Luis checked his mirror. “We what?”

“Stop on by and see what's really in the sauce they call special. You think you've got an idea, but I know what gives it its zip. Zip _and_ pizazz.”

“We don't want to know, do we?” Dee asked, too tired to keep from yawning.

“No, but what's the fun of keeping that a secret anyway?” V teased, staring up at the ceiling as she stretched along the seats. “Half the fun of insider secrets is spilling them.”

“Wait, you worked there?” Luis did a double-take and V groaned.

In the meantime, the commercial had looped back to its very start, and V hated the way she knew every word by heart.


	25. Worst case scenario - 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done for a one sentence prompt that was only supposed to get five sentences in response, and yeah, that wasn't happening. Instead this is a bit of an intro to what could be a multi-part arc later, and any other parts of this will be linked right back here. Takes place in that lovely SR2 and 3 space!

Finding the Chief of Police bound and gagged in the trunk of her car was not the way V had expected to start her day.

No, she had planned on going down to grab an early post-hangover breakfast at Freckle Bitch's, possibly after dragging Johnny's ass along with her, and had left the Halberd outside because she didn't give a fuck to store it properly. It was going to be another day spent trying to stay two steps ahead of the local media blitz.

Now she was wondering if Troy had even been left breathing.

She reached out to him, her heart hammering in her chest, and yanked down the gag. Then her fingers went for his pulse. It was beating steadily, and it made her gasp in relief. “Oh, Jesus. Thank you, thank you...” He shifted slightly, and she ran a hand gently through his hair. “Troy?”

“...V?”

He slowly opened his eyes, and she quickly got to work on untying his wrists and ankles. His uniform was still on, likely left from the night before, and she noted the large, dark bruise forming on his temple.

“Oh, fuck. I hate Mondays,” he muttered as she helped him slowly sit up.

“It's Tuesday, Troy,” she told him as she rested her hands on his shoulders, and he blinked back at her unsteadily.

He groaned and put a hand over his eyes. “Well, I hate Tuesdays too. They're piss-poor Mondays.”

She wanted to grab him and hold him, but couldn't stop shaking. Instead she reminded herself that he was injured and medical attention would probably be a very good idea right now. Digging her phone out, she searched for their personal doctor to keep any attention down and checked Troy over while she waited for her to pick up.

“ _Hello?”_

“You need to get the fuck over the Saints HQ right now, doc. Serious business.”

Troy watched her make the call, slowly gaining awareness back, and she put a hand on his cheek as Dr. Allen cleared her throat. _“Ms. V, is this serious in terms of what happened back around the 4_ _th_ _of July, or serious in terms of-”_

“Get over here. _Please._ ”

The shuffling that had been going on in the background stopped. _“...I see. I'll be there shortly.”_

She hung up and V sighed. “You can't walk, can you?”

“I can try,” Troy said, the corner of his mouth curving up. “Things are swimming a bit, but it's the fucking headache that's killing me.”

“God, I don't know if I even want to try to get you upstairs.” She ran through a list of ideas, and threw her hands up when only one seemed to make sense. “Fuck it.” She dialed the number and let it ring.

“ _Shit, V. The fuck are you calling me for? You're a few rooms down,”_ Gat mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Johnny, someone left Troy in the back of my car. I need you to get out here and help me get him inside.”

“ _What? He still breathing?”_

“Yes,” she told him, and her voice wavered.

He was silent on the other end for a minute, but she heard him start to move around. _“Be there in five.”_

* * *

Johnny took one look at Troy and shook his head. “Now you've done it.”

“What?” Troy asked, giving him a lopsided smile. “Pissed off some fucker crazier than you? Probably.”

“Say that again and you're walking,” Gat replied, frowning as he examined the rear of the Halberd. V followed his eyes and noticed a few dings at the bottom where the trunk would've engaged, showing that it might've been forced open. “Still got two working legs. Don't see what the problem is.”

Troy sat on the edge of the trunk and V took one of his arms as he tried to stand. Johnny quickly grabbed him when that failed, and slung his arm over his shoulder. “Ah, fuck.” Troy closed his eyes and V took his other arm. “I'm swimming laps.”

“You making out what he's saying?” Gat asked, turning to her.

“Yeah, we need to get him upstairs, because nonsense is bad. Very bad.”

This exchange continued into the the elevator and while Troy wasn't entirely present, he did talk, and Johnny's needling only encouraged him to continue. The relief she felt from that kept her moving, and they placed him in one of the spare bedrooms that didn't see a lot of traffic.

The wait after that nearly drove her nuts, however, and she was ready to jump to word association games when the doctor finally showed up and kicked them out.

That was almost even worse.

“Say it.”

V was pacing a hole into the carpet and Johnny just stood there on the other side of the room, his arms crossed. “What?”

“Whatever's on your mind right now, because I can't get mine to stop.”

Gat watched her make another round and didn't move from his post by the door. “Don't know about that. Though he's done it this time. Must've pissed off someone bad, and for Troy that shit's easy.”

“Really? Hadn't noticed.”

“Problem there's who.”

V stopped and tried tallying a list, but everything was scattered. She wanted to act, not plan and sit on the fact that someone knew to aim at Troy. Knew enough to place him in her car specifically, and chose not to kill him.

She wanted to wrap her hands around their neck and choke the life out of them.

“Yeah, I get that,” she threw out, returning to her pacing. “Could be anyone left over from before, though. Old Ronin, Samedi, Brotherhood. Could be even older than that. They just have to know a handful of facts about Troy, and who doesn't know that he was with the Saints at this point? It's a fucking no-brainer.”

Johnny nodded, and watched her carefully as she moved. “Who do you want on this?”

“Shaundi. She's got the best network, and I know she'll get this out fast and on the down-low. I do not want this broadcasted, because this son-of-a-bitch wants a big a reaction as possible. Well, they're not getting one.” _Not until I can rip their fucking head off._

She stomped over to the door and put her ear to it. It was silent, and that made her swear loudly.

“V.”

“Shouldn't she be done? It's taking way too damn long for it to be minor-”

“V.” She turned to Gat and she recognized that expression. She hadn't seen it in a long time. “They're not getting away.”

“They're running right now,” she said, her voice quiet.

“They're waiting. Showy fuckers always do.”

She let that sink in for a few seconds, then felt a smile tug at her lips. “They do, don't they?”

The smile he gave her back was full of promise and she was glad to have it.

Ten more minutes passed before anything happened. She'd almost resumed her circuit, when the door popped open and Dr. Allen closed it behind her. “What's the damage, doc?”

“Damage? Enough to require better medical attention. I'm seeing enough symptoms to say that he could have a concussion, and the equipment we have here isn't enough to assess it. He needs to go to the hospital, and I'm prepared to call an ambulance as soon as this conversation is over.”

That almost immediately broke her first declaration, but it was stupid to argue it. Especially since her common sense kicked in at that moment and reminded her that the police department was likely wondering just where the hell he was. He couldn't stay as much as she wanted him to.

“Fine. Get him loaded up and ready to go, because we're going to be neck-deep in cops at some point anyway. Don't want this going anywhere but here.”

“I'll be down the hall, but call me if anything changes.”

She pulled out her phone and V hesitated before going inside. Johnny hadn't moved an inch. “Hey, you staying here, or...?”

“Yeah. I'll stay in case someone comes knocking.”

Gat turned away after that, and she lingered until she was sure he wasn't going to say another word. She slipped through after that and closed the door as quietly as possible.

Troy didn't look good, but he was comfortable, and with no one else around she parked herself right by his bedside. The bruises were even more livid up close, however, and she felt her nails dig into her palms.

“I must really look like shit, eh?” he asked, blinking slowly. “Don't pull any punches.”

“You've been punched enough for one day, Troy. Shut up.” He tried to lift his arm up and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

He squeezed hers back, and she let herself focus on that for as long as she was able.


	26. Now, not later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SRIV, a take on the confession scene between the boss and Johnny. Recently rewritten to catch a bit more of what should've been there the first time around.

It was supposed to be easy. Something to admit and move past before the awkwardness could set in or so they could go back to the way things were. Easy enough. Foolproof.

Feelings weren't, but V had run through this conversation with herself before. Not directly, but the dodgy fashion in which she'd danced around it - acknowledging it, but not - had worked previously, and it should've done the trick again.

The avoidance should've kicked in the moment she felt that flutter linger, that warmth that kept on creeping back into her the minute she'd hear Johnny's voice in the hallway.

Should've, but didn't.

She'd chalked it up to missing it – and him – at first. The voice that she had grown used to in the mornings had been Pierce, throwing open the curtains while reminding her in too cheery of a tone to ever be used at that hour that she had shit to get done.

That wake up call didn't involve the sharp tone of an alarm that she'd hated with a passion, but now felt hollow without. Or the quick tug of the sheets covering her, because she was the only one left in the place dragging her feet.

Now, and for the last few nights she'd woken up in the cockpit, still bleary from the combination of fluorescent lights and sensors, to find Gat nearby. Sometimes, he'd be staring out into space, his mouth set in a harsh line, but other times he'd be trying to nap as well, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath.

It'd left her staring at him until he'd shake himself awake, and she'd quickly switch to the gibberish floating on the screen in front of her, because she couldn't trust herself to meet his eyes and show nothing.

Because that was the problem. She cared about him. Not just cared, but _cared_ , and whenever she'd look his way for two seconds too long, she'd have to drop her eyes, because it wasn't fading. None of it, not like before, and that scared the shit out of her.

It actually even had her trying to skirt around Gat for a while, but on a cramped ship with too-little space and too many people, it was damn near impossible.

And she'd missed him enough. Had gone years with only the silly declarations, memorials, and old photos to go off of, and like hell was she going to burn any more time avoiding someone she cared for. She'd burned enough, lost enough to what she'd believed was the right thing to do, and she wasn't going to fuck that up again.

But how much longer did they have? That question ran through her mind every time she lined up to be hooked into the sim, and every time she left it. It was borrowed at best, and when she opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling, she'd ask herself if she'd get another chance to do so.

If she'd get another chance to see her friends, her family.

If she'd have a chance to finally open her mouth and say something, anything.

It was silly and stupid, but she cared, and she'd grown tired of hiding it.

And after another sleepless night spent half in and out of the system, it was the only thing running through her mind as she attempted to eat what they had cobbled together for breakfast. The fork in her hand hit the tray in a steady rhythm, tapping lightly as it hovered close to the protein square, but not close enough to pierce it. V hit it with the next strike, eying it as her lip curled, and Johnny chuckled when she started chewing on one of its corners.

The knife in his hands spun in the air as he caught it absently, and her attention went straight to him with every motion. It was hypnotic in a way, and it took three tosses for her to finally pick up on the way he was watching her. “You feeling okay, boss?”

The square hit the tray with a plop, and she dropped her fork shortly after. “Eh.”

His eyebrow went up. “Eh?”

“Yeah. One of those shitty days, I guess,” she muttered, feeling worn down and worn out, but that was par for the course for all of them. They'd been slowly working themselves to the bone, and with things amping up there was no sign of it stopping yet. Not as long as that fucker was left breathing. “They're all starting to bleed together a bit, but it'll get better once we get back in the sim again.”

The frown on his face deepened. “You sure? You want out for a few, I can grab Pierce or Shaundi.”

“No, I can do it.” _I have to do it._ “Besides, I could use a pick me up. Spitting in Zinyak's eye's a good one, and I've been slacking lately.” His serious expression hadn't changed once during their conversation, and V couldn't help but think of Troy then. How he'd worn a look so close to that, and the sharp pang made her fingers clench. “Hey, don't worry about me, okay? I'm good.”

“Right.” Johnny dropped it, but the corners of his mouth still edged down. “Think I should take a look at our load out here before we go?”

She nodded. “Why not? You never know when the Zin'll come knocking.”

His chair skidded back as he got up and he gestured towards the armory when he noticed she hadn't done the same. “You coming?”

“...In a little bit,” she said, hesitating. He noticed it, but didn't say anything as he left the room, and the minute his silhouette disappeared through that doorway she pressed her hands flat to the table. Heard that internal clock keep on ticking as she waited, and asked herself one more time.

It only took her a second to find her answer. Taking in a shaky breath, she shoved her chair back and ran after him.

He was close to his usual spot out in the hall when she caught up, tensed and flushed, and his eyebrow went up. “That was fast. So much for your fucking breather-”

V held up a hand. “Just listen to me for a few minutes, okay? I've got a couple of things to say, and I've got to get this off of my chest, or I'm going to explode.”

Now he definitely did look surprised, but he folded his arms and gave her the floor.

“We've known each other a long time. A hell of a long time, actually,” she said, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in her mouth. “You're the only one left that knew me back when I was playing at being a gangster, seeing if this life would agree with me, and the only one I had left when I woke up five years after that.”

V remembered that disconnect, that feeling of floating through a place that she should've been able to call home, and how he'd been the only thing that had grounded her. Made sense. “You got me through that shit, Gat. Your support helped me get my act together and face the fact that I had some responsibilities to take up if we wanted the city back.”

He shrugged, but she shook her head. “Hey, I mean it, I was out of it and lost, and I needed a kick in the ass bad. I woke up with nothing, less than what I'd had when I'd joined up, with five years gone on top of that. I should've been strong enough to push past that, to get a fucking grip, but I couldn't get it through my head until you tried. Johnny Gat, Stilwater's poster boy and the scourge of law enforcement worldwide.”

Her teeth dug into her lip. “Apparently he believed in me, someway somehow, and how the hell could I ever say no to him? One of the scariest motherfuckers that I know, but also my friend. My best friend, and someone that I respected like crazy. So, the minute you just had to put your two cents in, I had to listen, and like hell was I going to disappoint you.”

“Never have,” Gat said, the corner of his mouth curved up.

“I know,” she started, feeling the words start to catch in her throat, “and I have no idea how I managed that, but yeah. Somehow I'd done the impossible. Figured out a way to make you think it was worth your time to spend it with me, and bumbled my way up from the dirt to the top. It wasn't easy to deal with then, and it certainly wasn't easy to deal with the increase in publicity after that. The growth, the movies, the comics, the shows, all that shit. It was fun at first, but got old, and I knew it was getting to you.

“Sorry, man,” she said, giving him a weak smile. “I did know, and for some reason you still stood with us through that. With me. Side by side, right? You did that even then, and I was grateful as hell for it,” she said, recalling the stress of the shoots and publicity stunts. “But then something happened. The Syndicate and that fucking plane, and...I had seven years to wonder what the hell I did wrong.”

Johnny's eyes didn't leave her for a second, and when his grin fell she floundered. Had to search for her voice again before she could keep on going, and she had to. There could be no stopping now. Not when she'd come this far, and no matter how wet her eyes got.

“What did I miss? What could I have done? Just...” She let her arms fall and took in a deep breath. “There was no reason that Shaundi and I couldn't have stayed behind and fought hard, but at the same time I'd never even considered the other possibility. That the stupid plane would be it. The last time I'd ever get to see you, and I couldn't make any fucking sense of it. Couldn't even let that run through my mind, because it couldn't be true. You couldn't be dead. And when I started to believe that I...I was lost all over again. There was this Johnny-shaped hole in my life that I couldn't fill with anything, though lord knows I tried.”

Her hand wavered as she raised it. “Partying? Been there done that. Sex?” V laughed, and swiped at her eyes, trying not to think about the way Troy had held her, and her voice gave. “Yeah, that's all I'm going to say about that. Revenge? It's fun and all, but it's revenge. Been there, done that, and it still doesn't fix anything. Didn't in Stilwater, and it didn't in Steelport. In fact, all it did was make me want you more, because nothing felt right. The city, the people, the fucking food. Do you know how hard it was to find a decent burger there? Fucking criminal.”

A chuckle slipped out of Gat, and V wished it didn't hurt to hear it. It was still that odd brand of familiar that she'd missed, but knew, and she hadn't finished getting used to it again.

“But that's not what I'm trying to say. It's...it's funny how much you realize you need someone when they're not there anymore. Can't bug the shit out of them, or see who could rack up enough minor traffic violations to piss off a cop first. Can't even call them late to see if they feel like a drive, or a conversation about the awful porno you'd TiVo-ed by accident.”

She sighed and wiped her eyes again with her thumb. “The others tried, but I didn't want anyone else for that. I wanted you. Needed you. Couldn't see anyone else but you.” She pushed the words out, keeping them going, because everything needed to come out. “But I'm not Aisha, and I would never try to be her. She's too important, and I-”

He grabbed her. Took her firmly into his arms and kissed her with enough feeling to make her lose the rest of her sentence in him. Real, tangible him, as she felt her legs about to give way. “It's about respect, right?” he asked, breathing hard when he broke away. “I've never fucking doubted that. Not once.”

And he kissed her again, making whatever sense was left in her fade as his mouth moved against hers. Her hands grabbed for every inch of him, his shoulders, his arms, his neck, every bit as he backed her up, and when she hit the wall, he kissed her harder. Slid his tongue along her lips as she moaned and kept on trying to wrap herself around him, and he had her pinned.

The zipper broke on her suit when he forced it down, and his mouth traced every bit of skin he exposed, sucking gently at first before teasing with his teeth. The first real nip made her jump, but when his mouth closed over the spot soon after, she dug her nails into the sleeves of his suit and arched into him.

“Johnny.” One of his hands moved down between her legs, rubbing her through the suit, and her voice caught when she felt that insistent press. “Johnny. I-”

He tugged at the zipper, gave it one last yank and drew back with a scowl. “Fucking piece of shit.”

“Johnny.” His eyes snapped to hers, and V used a hand to brush the hair out of her eyes. “I think we should move.”

“Not much for crowds, boss?” he asked, leaning back in to run his tongue along her ear.

“Not right now,” she gasped, every inch of her on fire as he moved her suit down and over her shoulders. The metal was cold against her back, but it barely even registered. Not with her this damn close to coming in his arms. Did she want that? To the point that she was ready to strip the rest of her suit off and spread her legs wide. Did she feel like everyone needed to see or hear that? Not so much, and she idly wondered just how much they'd caught already. “We're moving.”

“I didn't hear you ask,” he said, sliding his warm fingers over her stomach.

Leaning into the touch, she let herself savor it for a minute before giving him a pointed glare. “Wasn't asking.”

Grabbing the chains around his neck, she pulled him forward to bite at his bottom lip before letting go to lead him towards the small side entrance to the crew quarters. He caught up to her partway down the hall, the harsh kiss stealing her breath as she bit at him again, and after the second Gat hefted her over his shoulder. The sudden shift made her yelp as he carried her the rest of the way towards her room, his hand palming the back of her thigh when he wasn't trailing his fingers down the inside of her legs.

The doors hissed as they opened and closed, and the minute V knew they were in the clear, she pushed herself up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“See? That wasn't so bad,” she stated, her heart pounding as she slid against him. “Pays to listen to your boss.”

“Right.” Johnny cupped the back of her head as his tongue slid into her mouth, curling it around hers before pulling back. “Any other requests?”

It took a second for her to recover, but she rocked against him. “Oh? You offering?”

His grin went sharp. “Nah, but what's the harm?”

Her muffled insult was barely heard as they fell onto the bed, his weight almost knocking the breath out of her. He pushed himself up shortly after and when she saw the knife come out she didn't even flinch. Not even when it sliced her suit the rest of the way down. The strips were easy to peel off, and she couldn't help but laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Got to get it off somehow.” She lifted herself up so he could slip it down her legs, and loved how warm his palms were on her thighs. “And you.”

“Subtle,” she said, wetting her lips. “Real subtle.”

“Doesn't matter long as it works, and I know you're wet right now.”

He dragged her under him when she tried to sit up and didn't give her a chance to make another comeback. His hips moved against hers as he groaned above her, and she couldn't close her eyes. Not now. Tugging him down to cover his mouth with hers, she gave him a harder bite to his lip than before, and the sharp intake of breath was her only warning before he pulled back to drag her underwear down. It was a miracle that the pair didn't tear when they tangled around her knees, but once he got them off he reached for the knife again.

And that brief moment was all it took for her to get him on his back. Climbing up to pin his arms with her knees, she braced against the light pressure he used to test her hold and chucked the knife off to the side. “Not happening,” she quipped, flicking at one of her bra straps before slipping it off.

The smirk that earned was beautiful, and one she wanted to see again. “Sure thing, boss.”

He then tried to push her off of him, but she held him down, her hips shifting as her hands pressed into the mattress. “You heard me.”

When he remained still, she moved, but only so she could get at the zipper of his suit. He'd already given her more than enough to take in, but she couldn't resist trying for that extra inch. Not when she could trace her fingers over his skin, and hear his quick inhale with the flick of her tongue to his neck.

But when he leaned up to catch her mouth, she didn't think twice about kissing him back, or letting him draw her back down. And when one of his arms slipped out from under her to tangle in her hair, it didn't register at first, not until she felt him smile before planting her flat on her back.

The rest of his suit came off after that, her hands pushing at it just as eagerly as his. Her nails trailed down a few of the scars revealed to her, some of them more familiar than others. She'd avoided it deliberately, but when he guided her hand to the one on his side, her eyes went straight to his covered ones.

And he pulled her to him, kissing her until her lips tingled, and she had no choice but to come up for air. His sunglasses stared back at her still, but he flicked them off, almost casually tossing them towards the end of the bed.

“You would find a way to break them,” he murmured, his dark eyes glinting.

She'd seen them only a handful of times, but never with a look like that. Not outside of the ideas she'd played around with in the past, with alcohol as her fuel, and her imagination as the match. Unlike those times, however, she voiced exactly what she'd wanted to, and words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Why aren't you inside me yet?”

He laughed. “Fucking impatient. Got to learn some self-control, V.”

“You shut the fuck up, because I'm not going to hear you talk to me about that-”

Her face went into the mattress and she swore loudly. Then his mouth sucked hard on the back of her neck and she gasped when he traveled lower, moving along her spine as his body brushed her back. He took his time, sucking at the skin while he held her in place, and by the time he reached her lower back she was practically writhing under him. That's when she felt his fingers tease at her. Light touches to the inside of her thighs as she moved her hips, and when they dipped inside of her her nails went straight into her palms.

“Told you. Impatient.”

He entered her again, and the mattress did little to mask the whine that left her mouth. The slide had her trying to buck against his hand in minutes, and by the time she was left panting into the sheets, he was doing the same, his breath hot by her ear. But he didn't curve his fingers, or send her over the edge just yet. They slipped out of her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see him suck on them shortly before he turned her over and buried his face between her legs.

Spreading them further apart to lick at her, he had her breathing fast and struggling not to kick him as his tongue drew every possible noise out of her. Clawing at the sheets, she felt her mouth move as she tried to form words and phrases, but she'd gone straight to the swearing stage. Was cursing him and calling him everything in the book as she caught the expression gracing his face right before he made her come.

And she felt his teeth graze the inside of her thigh as she came down, scratching her hard, but not enough to leave a mark. The sharp suck that followed would, however, and she sat up to grab at him the moment his mouth left her skin. That's when she looked. Took him in as she felt his erection brush against her flushed skin, and traced her fingers over the tip.

“Shit. I always wondered if you were a liar.”

Stroking him gently, she drew a groan from his lips the moment her fingers wrapped around him. “No point. Figured I'd be upfront about it.”

“To some dumb kid who was trying to impress you? Great job, there. It's almost as if you wanted me to think about your dick.”

“Maybe.” The low tone had her flushing deeper. “You're the one who's still thinking about it now.”

She pushed at his chest to get him to sit back, and the moment she had an opening, she took him into her mouth and tried to lick as much of him as possible. He groped for her as she worked, kneading her breasts as she moaned around him, and when she heard her name slip out, she sucked harder. Wanted to hear it again, rough and desperate, while he ran his fingers through her hair.

Because that was something else she wanted to hold onto. That sound, that deep breath that he couldn't hold onto no matter how hard he tried, and when he pulled her up her eyes met his. And she wanted to hold onto that too. That need, dark and lovely, as he watched her search for a condom to roll onto him, her hands shaking once they did.

She tried to climb onto him, settle onto him as he held onto her, and when he pushed inside, she could feel his fingers press hard into her skin. Because he wasn't patient either, but wanted to be. Wanted to ease into her as her nails came close to drawing blood.

And when he moved, deep inside of her, she threw her head back. Followed every motion with one of her own, and when he rolled her onto her back, she stared up at him until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

Because she wanted that. Every moment, every memento, every second.

Everything had been too short with them. Too short or gone too soon, and she was done living by that. Done waiting for that moment, because there wasn't one. This was them, now, and she wasn't going to let it slip by. Not again.

Not when they could have this.


	27. Know your game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR1 pre-Rollerz race shenanigans. Pretend there's a lot of bass playing in the background of this one.

This was new. Then again, V didn't spend a lot of time over on this side of the bridge, so places like this were a bit out of the way.

With this kind of music running through her though, she might be willing to make a return trip. The strobe light went blue, then white, and she tried to pick Lin out of the crowd and smoke. It wasn't until someone's hand closed around her wrist that she realized she could've called, and Lin chuckled at the way she jumped.

“You are jumpy. Relax. Nothing to worry about here.”

V felt her tug her arm, and the two drifted into the crowd, taking up their movements. It was heady, and she grabbed the moment for all it was worth.

Lin did not hesitate to dance close to her, but she was dancing with her just as much as she was dancing with the others. V also found herself getting tangled with the crowd as a whole, and found it difficult to mind when what mattered was the movement. The beat. It was almost too easy to lose herself.

The other woman took her hand again after a while, and V knew it was time to wake up. They sidled up to the bar and Lin made a gesture to the bartender before looking back at her. “Club girl?”

“Sort of. Depends on the company.”

Lin smirked. “You haven't been to enough shitty clubs. Good company can only take you so far.” The bartender dropped of her drinks and Lin immediately pounded hers back without a flinch. “I've been working on something that'll show the Rollerz not to fuck with us. Think you can handle it?”

“Oh, yeah,” V replied too fast.

She had 'eager to please' written all over her, but Lin didn't seem put off by it, only amused. “Good. You can chase down cars, but here it's not about damaging them. It's about the driver. I want him mad. I want him to look over at you and see nothing but a pair of tits on the road, and I want you to make him regret it. Sound good?”

_Amazing, actually._ “I'll make it hurt, but how?”

“Samson's rigged their cars to blow, but there's a bit of a trick to it. They have to hit the NOS. Get them riled up enough to need it, and it'll set the charges off.” She mimicked the boom, and V felt a shiver run down her back. “It'll be something else.”

Lin handed her the other drink and she drank half without testing it first. Something high-proof hit her system, and she did her best not to cough. “Looking forward to it.”

“Thought you might. You're dealing with a bunch of men that are thinking with their dicks, not their heads. They think they can drive, but they're nothing. Play them at their own game and get them distracted. Low, sheer, easy. Hit any of those points while avoiding purple and they'll be too busy looking at you to handle the wheel or the path they're taking. Nothing sweeter than payback to a bunch of assholes, is there?”

The rest of the drink disappeared and V knew this was going to be fun. “Fuck no. Just say the word and it's happening.”

Lin's lips curved up a hair. “Tomorrow you'll get your car. Show up to the address here and make them pay. You'll have a tagalong, but he's there for insurance. You should be able to handle everything else.”

A paper slid along the counter, and V snagged it before Lin merged back into the dancing crowd.

* * *

Night was creeping up on the city again when she found herself parked up in the suburbs. The classier setting put her on edge, but that was what happened when half the people living there dismissed her with a glance.

And now instead of her usual hat, hoodie, and jeans, she was wearing a red tube top and short denim skirt. Even had her hair down, with some fancy eyeliner for good measure. The whole ensemble got her almost double the disapproval, and she was even more determined to tell them all to go fuck themselves.

She was putting on some lip gloss with a mirror she'd borrowed from her friend, when she heard a car pull up. The paint was a dead giveaway, and when Troy stepped out she felt her heart drop right into her stomach.

Then he got a good look at her. He paused, blinked, and she felt his eyes move from top to bottom in a very careful path as he approached her. “You look...”

“Underdressed. I know,” she said, hoping she'd beat him to the punch. He'd removed all purple in favor of a dark buttoned up shirt that had the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of jeans. Not far from his usual, but he looked nice. She felt ridiculous standing next to him. “You don't look happy.”

Troy frowned. “Neither do you.”

“Hey, surprised doesn't equal unhappy. I'm just amused that you're my backup.”

“I don't strike you as the racing type?” The look she gave him only seemed to annoy him more. “Well, get over it, because I'm what you've got. You sure you can even drive in those?”

She glanced down at the heel on her red boots and felt offended. “Yeah. How do you think I got here?”

“Nothing short of a miracle,” he said under his breath as he puffed away at his cigarette.

He'd never been this degree of pissy around her before, and it confused her when it wasn't bugging the crap out of her. “Are we good to go, because up until now I was actually glad to see you.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but gave it a moment before sighing. “Fuck. I wasn't trying to jump down your throat. It's just...this. All the hoops we're jumping through. It's silly shit in the hopes that we're making progress.” For a moment he seemed weary and drained, but he covered it in his usual calm. “But that's part of the risk, eh? You never know until you find out. Ready?”

She nodded and he held up a set of keys. His keys.

“You going to treat my lady with respect?”

“No, I promise to be her ruin,” she joked, her lips curving up, “but I'll at least make it fun. Guaranteed.”

* * *

“I think I've seen this movie before.”

Troy laughed. “Yeah, I get what you're talking about. Probably got the idea to do this after some reruns at midnight, but doing doughnuts in your neighbor's lawn doesn't count.”

V pulled into the area where the cars were scattered and was a bit amazed at all the blue. The party in the street was one of the more active ones she'd stumbled on, but racing wasn't her gig. If this was how a bunch of kids in the burbs hung out, she wondered just how crazy it got in Chinatown.

“Tell me I'm not seeing glowsticks over there,” V said, noticing something pink in the distance.

“You're not.”

“Liar.”

She shut the car off and took in the music pounding just outside the window. It was just her kind of music, thumping bass, with just enough rhythm to get you on the dance floor. Shame she'd be doing more driving than dancing, but there was nothing wrong with letting it add some sway to her step now.

“Showtime.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door, making him glance her way. “What are you doing?”

“Can't really play my role well in here, eh? It's better if I have a stage.”

Her grin went suggestive as she closed it behind her and trailed a finger along the side of the Zircon. It shone bright up close like this, and she found herself wondering how it'd handle the road in her hands. It was steady in Troy's, but she wanted to see it fly. Wanted to see what she could draw out of it.

She sat on the corner of the hood and crossed her legs. The short skirt rode high, and she did her best to appear disinterested when a few began to look her way. When she heard Troy's door open behind her she let a grin show through, however, and gestured him over with a finger.

If she thought she had nonchalance down, he had it mastered. He took a long drag of his dwindling cigarette before he took his spot beside her, and when he did she leaned into his space just enough to catch a hint of the cologne he was wearing.

“Want to light me one?”

He didn't turn his head, but she could feel his eyes on her as he put his old cigarette out on the ground and got his pack out.

The whole process of getting it lit was a careful act on both parts, but as he did she couldn't help but admire the way he guided the flame. Then she stole the lighter to help him, but he took her wrist and guided it too. It seemed to take longer for his cigarette to catch as his fingers pressed into her skin, but when it did he gave her arm a light squeeze before letting it go.

That left her scattered, and she had no choice but to retreat back into the disinterested bubble she'd crafted for herself. “Watch it, there.”

He didn't say anything in response, but his eyes told her enough.

Lucky for her the whistling started then, and the tell-tale sign of a group of assholes helped to pull her attention away from the warm feeling settling over her.

“That your boy's car?” One guy leered at her from the window of his, and he couldn't have been older than her by a couple of years. Judging from behavior, however? He was short by at least five.

She smiled, but kept it cold. “No.”

“Nah, you're messing with me, girl.”

The leer got even more blatant, and she knew that Troy was tense beside her. He took his cigarette between his fingers, and somehow managed to keep a blank face. His tone, however, was something else. “Your parents know what you're doing with theirs, kid?”

That turned the other racer's expression ugly, and V couldn't help the smirk. “Probably not. If he plays nice, they might let him keep it on weekends.”

“You shut your fucking mouth. At least I got mine without seeing its backseat.”

She laughed, full-on laughed. “Hey, this is my baby. Doesn't matter what I did to earn it, because I can own it. Just because you had to suck some dick on the side to get yours boosted doesn't mean that you have to feel ashamed about it, man.”

That got the other driver out of the car, and someone stepped in on his side to keep him in place. She snickered until Troy put a hand on her lower back and leaned in by her ear. “I think we're supposed to wait for them to hit the pavement. Want to cool it?”

She nodded stiffly and didn't dare to breathe until he'd moved away, otherwise she'd pick up on his cologne again. It fit him well, and the fact that she liked it didn't help any. Not when he was helping her shoot at the church, and certainly not now.

A few men started waving people towards their cars, and they took this as their cue to finally get ready. She slipped into the driver's seat and ran her fingers over the steering wheel, noting all the differences between this car and her own. It felt strange to be the one in control here, to be trusted with not just someone else's car, but Troy's.

She honestly wondered what the hell Lin was thinking, but another question popped up. It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Did you put your car up for this?”

The seatbelt almost slipped out of Troy's hand. “What?”

“Did you tell Lin that she could use your car for the race, or were you the first person she had in mind to drive?”

The surprise disappeared fast. “Who's in the driver's seat?”

“Me...?”

“You were always her first pick, kid. I just thought it might help if I got you a reliable ride.”

She tried not to bristle at the kid remark, but grimaced. “Reliable? God, you really are acting as my babysitter here, aren't you?”

That made him frown back. “Hey, no one's babysitting anyone. You're here to piss them off, I'm here to piss them off. Between the two of us it shouldn't be too hard, right?”

Oh, that stung. She fixed her eyes on the road and knew the temperature in the car had dropped a good ten degrees. “No. You got me going in record time.”

She revved the car to drown him out, and pushed her hair out of her face. Then she flicked her cigarette out of the window. She didn't need that burning her on a bad turn. Troy kept his, though she knew it was going to be nothing but cinders by the time things were done.

He hadn't had her behind the wheel like this before, and she was determined to make it memorable.


	28. Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR1 in the space kind of at the beginning of "Call"! Troy's got some thinking to do, but Johnny wants to talk.

This was bad. 'Halfway through a pack and it not helping' bad.

Then again, he was only speaking for his own nerves. He had no idea how V was faring, since she'd made herself nothing but scarce since the night before. Would he have done the same if she'd approached him already? He didn't have a damn clue, but the last thing he'd wanted to do after leaving was sleep with that at the forefront of his mind.

And her. Everything about her.

He stopped his mind when it tried to recall those lips of hers, but even the hint was enough to make him want to pour a bucket of ice water over his head. One hint always led to another, and her voice was in his ear again, making him want to do a variety of things to get it out.

The next day wasn't much better, and as he put out the stub that was his old cigarette and lit a new one, he kept an eye out for any flashes of red.

He didn't see any, and by then it was clear she was avoiding him.

That weighed on him more and more as the hours ticked by, and when Johnny found him later he wasn't anywhere near pleasant. They stayed there for a good five minutes, leaning against the outside of the church, and Troy tried to get his mood in line enough to have a decent conversation.

“What's going on?”

“So, she finally get to you?”

That opener didn't do anything to help. “What?”

“V. She's been bugging the shit out of you since day one. Doing this, doing that. Now she's clinging to Dex like velcro gone wrong. You say something stupid?”

Troy let that go for a minute, keeping his response neutral. “No.”

“Sure, I'm real convinced.”

“I'm serious. Shit's also come up. Can't drop everything to help if I'm being pulled in three directions at once.”

“Heh, well you shouldn't have held her hand so fucking tightly if you're getting sick of it now.”

The barb stuck, and Troy frowned. “It's called not being a colossal asshole. Might want to try it yourself, sometime.”

“Fuck you,” Johnny replied, annoyed. “I'm just saying. Anyway, I was going to talk to her about the Vice Kings. Got some extra work to do and she's one of those go-getter types. Perky. Be a shame to waste it if you've got it, you know?”

“That's a far cry from how you used to see her.”

“Eh, things change. She doesn't need fucking training wheels any more, so I'm respecting that. ...Unless you're up for something.”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

Troy flicked at his cigarette and looked at him carefully. “On what you're asking about.” He waited a beat. “And the potential body count.”

Johnny shrugged. “Oh, nothing much. Just some good old fashioned larceny.”

“Need a little more info than that, man.”

“The cops that have been working with the VKs like to go to this bar two to three times a week. I thought it might be worth seeing how long it'd take for them to notice their rides have been jacked. From there, we can take them and make a cozy little bonfire. Perform a little community service, keep the neighborhood warm. All that nice shit.”

“Let me get this straight. You want me to steal cop cars and wreck them?” Troy asked.

“Yeah.”

“And not shoot up the bar, or plant a fucking bomb?”

“The option's open, but it's up to you if you want to take it. Earn some brownie points even,” Johnny said, grinning. “Anyway, it was something I'd set up for V since she wanted something to do. Fucking with cops is a national pastime. Thought she might have fun with it.”

Troy looked away. “Yeah, that might be up her alley.”

“But not yours. I don't get it.”

“Hey, if you see a hornet's nest your first instinct shouldn't be to poke it with a sharp stick or throw a rock at it. We've already got enough heat from the cops, especially after what went down with Lin and Sharp. You really think we need more?”

“Big fucking deal. They'll come after us if we so much as breathe wrong, and they're hunting down purple anyway. Might as well make them work for it. What do you say?”

“I'll pass.”

"You're becoming a fucking killjoy,” Johnny said, pushing himself off of the wall.

“I get my kicks from other things. Sorry to disappoint.” He watched Johnny out of the corner of his eye as he walked off to the side, looking out towards the tombstones. “Want me to let her know?”

“Nah, I'll pass it on to her when I find her. She wasn't looking too hot earlier, and I'd hate to see your spin on this. Trying to cheer her up here, not scare her off.” Johnny didn't see his scowl, but still chuckled darkly as if he had. “Right?”

“Right,” Troy said, his mouth a thin line. “Sure thing.”

When Gat turned back he wasn't smiling either. He stood like that for a few seconds, waiting, before stalking out towards the road. Troy didn't relax until he was out of sight.

He left not too long after that and did something he hadn't done in a while. Poured a couple shots out in his apartment and let those do the thinking for him.

Maybe tomorrow things would be clearer then.


	29. Slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Car trouble back in SR1. V tries to self-assess, but could use a helping hand.

It was a slow day. Nothing really to do for Julius since the hit on Lopez, nothing to manage or pick up leads on, and nothing really to pass on in turn, so when he sat down to enjoy the game he was ready to pop open a beer and call it a night. The lid was off for only a few seconds when his phone began to ring, and while he wasn't surprised he wasn't exactly happy to hear it.

Until he saw the number, that is. He pushed his irritation aside to take it. “Hey.”

“ _This is silly, and I feel like an ass for asking, but when your car squeals, that's not good, right?”_ V asked.

Troy scrunched his eyebrows together. “No...?”

“ _And if it's leaking, that's bad too.”_

“Yeah. I'd call that bad.”

“ _Well, shit. I feel like I'm going down a fucking checklist.”_

“You finally break that thing?”

“ _Kind of...?”_ He imagined her frowning at her car while twirling her hair around her finger, and grinned. _“I think it's pissed off, honestly.”_

There was a question there, and he wondered if she was going to ask it. Then he wondered if he should. If she wanted him to.

It didn't take him long to decide. He could hear her shuffling around on the other end, and grabbed the remote to shut the television off. “I can be there in fifteen.”

“ _Are you sure? There's a Rim Jobs close by, I just have to drag this damn thing over and see how much it's going to set me back.”_

“They'll just take you for a ride. Let me get a look at it and we'll see how bad it is.”

“ _Okay, since you just had to twist my arm... I do promise to pay you in beer and compliments, though.”_

He chuckled. “One'll only get you so far.”

“ _Eh, we'll see. I can be pretty persuasive. See you soon.”_

He hung up and tapped his fingers against his cell, remembering the times he'd seen her trying to work on her car over at the church before, and took a long drink of the beer he'd abandoned. Then took another shortly after that.

“We'll see is right,” he muttered as he went to grab his tool kit.

* * *

Her apartment didn't leave her a lot of space, so when he pulled into her parking lot V was already there with both of her hands under the hood. This left her bent over the edge, squinting at the problem waiting for her.

Then she stretched, and in her denim shorts and tank top she looked like nothing short of an automechanic's wet dream. Pretty girl, hair tied back in a messy ponytail, slinging tools around with a cigarette and a slow smile? Trouble.

 _And she sure as hell was_ , Troy mused, keeping his eyes from running over her.

She wiped the sweat off of her forehead with the back of her hand and glanced his way when he turned the engine off, giving him an expectant look. His cigarette was three-quarters gone, and he knew it wasn't going to last five minutes with her. Not at this rate.

He opened the door and got out, and she dropped her arms by her sides. “Not going so well?”

“No,” she told him, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “It's still leaking and squeaking. The squeaking's the brakes, but the other? Not sure. I've been at this for over two hours and I don't have a whole lot to show for it.”

“Still runs, right?”

“Yeah, but something's fucked. Might be the radiator, but I don't know which end I should be poking at.” She lightly kicked one of the front tires and flicked her cigarette. “What do you think?”

He put his cigarette out before coming closer and crouched down by the Halberd's side to check for anything on the pavement. “You know what side the leak's coming from?”

She walked over by him and he tried not to look up. “Just down the middle?”

“That's specific,” he replied drily.

“Hey, when it's been there for a bit it spreads. I'm sorry I'm not thinking in blueprints.”

He glanced under it and waited for any sign of movement. A few drops fell, and when he put a small flashlight over the area below, it was stained an almost violent green. Once he was close enough he could smell it too. “Looks like coolant. Radiator's right.”

“Okay, then this must be causing it.” He got back up and she waved him over. “See that?”

Her finger traced the air above the upper radiator hose and he saw the cracks. “Yeah.”

“It's cracking isn't it?”

“Yep. Lower one's probably bad too. You're lucky the damn thing didn't go and overheat on you.” She exhaled, and Troy noticed the cigarette dangling from her mouth again. He never lit up whenever he was digging in a car's guts, so when he took it away, it was almost purely on reflex. “Hey, keep this to a minimum when you're working here.”

V froze, but then went right back to pointing at the radiator. “Sure thing, but this is bad, isn't it?”

He leaned forward, her cigarette between his fingers, and had to call it. “Looks like it. You take any hits to the front lately?”

Her look told him exactly what he guessed, but it was always good to have confirmation. “I get hit or grazed at least once a day.”

“Took it on the nose, though?”

“Like a champ. This one guy wasn't paying attention at the light, and I skidded right into him. Didn't even think he was in the wrong at all.”

“So...?”

“I yelled at him until he sped off, which didn't help, but what was I going to do anyway? Get the cops involved?”

“No, that wouldn't work. They'd see purple and it'd break down fast.”

It irritated the shit out of him, but it was true, even though he'd been specific on how anyone was supposed to engage her and the others. Minimum force and aggression, no fucking heroes with their eye on the prize. Defend only if provoked and all of that jazz. Unless it was Johnny, in which 'engage with extreme caution' was always the operative phrase.

Still didn't make it easy to enforce, however, and his reach wasn't far, not where he was right now. If someone got ideas and slapped a pair of cuffs on her he'd have to tear through a stack of papers to bust her out, but he'd try. And if it was over trading paint, he'd give the cop dumb enough to do it hell first.

He put a hand on the raised hood and let his eyes drift back to V only to find her staring back at him. His eyebrow went up, but when he took a drag, he realized the cigarette in his mouth wasn't his. Didn't even taste close to what he knew, and he exhaled the smoke in one quick puff.

It went under his shoe after that, and he swallowed against the feeling in his throat. “You know how it goes. Guy wouldn't have paid you shit for it either.”

She blinked at him and turned to the radiator. “Yeah, you're right. Wasn't even worth going after him either. Fucker.”

“Nope, not a chance.” Troy stepped away and put his hands in his pockets. “Might as well get under this and see what degree of fucked it is in other areas too, eh?”

“And here I was hoping the poor thing wouldn't lose its dignity,” she joked, wetting her lips.

His eyes flicked towards her then parked themselves back where they should've been. “I'll still respect it in the morning. Don't worry about that.”

“You damn well better. What do you need?”

The short answer to that was time, a set of screwdrivers, and her vehicle jack. The long one? Beer, another cigarette, and an angle where he wouldn't get distracted by her getup. Or her legs. That wasn't going to happen, however.

“Just the basics. Wouldn't hurt if we started with the hoses, though.”

She nodded. “Gotcha.”

The model wasn't too hard to guess, but he put the car up to get both hoses for comparison anyway. She wasn't sure, he wasn't sure, and he didn't want her waiting for him all damn day while he kept on choosing the wrong thing.

He pulled off one of his shirts so he'd have a clean one left to head home in, and slid under the car to drain the radiator fluid. It wasn't difficult with the pan she rushed down to him, but it did take time, and he watched her boots circle him as they waited. Her face would peek under every now and then, her eyes narrowed as she tried to examine things, and the actual interest there surprised him.

“How do you know when it's done?” she asked, staring over at him from the other side.

“You just do.”

“There's got to be some level you check.” A drop fell, then another after a couple of minutes. “Because it shouldn't take monk levels of patience to fix my car.”

“It doesn't. You think I've got that?”

“More than me at any rate. ...That doesn't count, does it?”

He tapped at the hose. “What?”

“As a compliment.” She started chewing her lip. “That's more of a fact.”

“Everybody's got to start somewhere. Can you pass me a cloth?”

That got her out of sight and he closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them up again. By that point she had it and he used it to get the hose off once the clamps were loose. The same thing was done to the hose that connected right to the radiator, and both showed clear signs of damage.

“You want company, or should I stick with my car?”

The hopeful look in her eye wasn't hard to miss, but in the end he shook his head. “It'd be no problem if you had a garage to stash this in, but I'd hate to see someone grab your tires while you were out.”

V pouted. “For real?”

“I mean it. You turn your back, and they'll be halfway down the street.”

“Where's your trust, man?”

Troy didn't even blink. “Dried up and gone like the last car I left unattended. Shit happens.”

She folded her arms and sighed. “Fine. I'll just sit here and wait then. Alone.”

That did earn a single pang of guilt. She was getting better at that. “Can't avoid it here, V. Shouldn't take long.”

And if he did speed a good few over the limit, he didn't notice.

The rest went according to clockwork. Everything under the car was exclusively his, but once she had an idea of what was going where he let her help with the hose up top. Most of the instructions he gave she followed to the letter, and she had him double-check everything once it was done.

It was always interesting to see her focus up close, because as much as she liked to joke about pissing around, she usually did give her hundred percent and then some. It all came down to whether or not she had something to do, and when she did, that was what mattered.

“That good?”

The new radiator fluid hit the point it needed to, and he gave her a nod. “Yep, and it doesn't appear to be dropping either. Nice work.”

V rolled her eyes, but the shy smile told him she was pleased to hear it. “Hey, compliments are for you. I owe you a bunch. The brakes and other junk I'll leave for them, but this was a huge help. You're not half-bad at this mechanic business.”

“Half-bad?” he asked, stepping back from the car. “Aiming low, there?”

The hood dropped as she closed it hard. “Wasn't trying.” Her tone was light, and when she walked up to him she gestured towards her face. “But you sure are messy, teach.”

“Sure about that?”

His thumb brushed across her cheek and smudged some of the dirt there. “Hey!”

The fierce scrubbing she did made it streak more, and when she dropped it to get his opinion, he was shaking with laughter. “No dice, V.”

Her fake offense turned into one of the brightest smiles he'd ever seen. It lit her up all over, and he wasn't sure what to do with it. Even when she used his shock to throw the old cloth in her hands right at him.

“I'm getting washed up. Want to come?”

Troy pulled the rag off of his face and stared at her.

“You don't want to go home like that, right?” She crossed her arms behind her head and rocked on her feet. “I won't take long, and you can borrow my shower after that. Then pizza?”

“...Sure,” he said, shaking himself out of it. “Any good places in mind?”

He started gathering up his things and V handed him any tools that strayed too far. “I've got a few, but I'm open to suggestions. Pep good?”

“Always,” he said, tossing everything into the trunk of his car.

“And beer?”

“Lead the way.”

It was almost as if she were dangling a carrot in front of his face with a promise like that. Especially since she gave him one shortly after walking through the door. It was one of his favorites that she'd taken a shine to and she laughed when he sighed fondly at the sight of it.

When he turned that look on her, she retreated fast, but not before winking at him.

The shower started soon after and he listened to it for a bit before going for her television. He dusted off his jeans and took a seat on her couch, hoping that whatever was on him wouldn't transfer too bad, if at all. The football game he'd meant to catch earlier ended a while back, but another was about to start, and he kicked up his feet on her coffee table.

Towards the end of the first quarter a towel was dumped into the spot on the couch next to him. “It's open if you want it.”

V was drying her hair still, and tried to blow her bangs out of her face. Another tank top had taken the other's place, and Troy tried not to crane his neck too much when looking her over. “You've got some timing.”

“Good game?”

“It's shaping up to be. Might as well go now before the half.”

He got up and grabbed the towel and shirt he'd brought with him, but she intercepted him. “Wait. Just to let you know, soap-soap's by the sink, because I'm sure you don't want to smell like some citrus disaster coming out.”

Citrus disaster wasn't what he was getting from her, but he nodded anyway. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and one more thing.” She stole his cigarette from his hand and grinned. “Payback for earlier. Showers and cigs just don't mix.”

* * *

He was in and out in record time. The pizza was in the middle of being ordered when he opened the door, and V's voice floated over from behind the couch.

Her feet were propped up on the arm on the far end as she laid across the cushions, and she sat up when he poked his head over the back. “Yeah, yeah. Two'll do. Thanks.” The phone went on the coffee table and she brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Should take thirty to forty minutes to get here. They're a good place, but you'll have to take my word for it.”

“Beer too?” he asked, leaning on the couch.

She laid back down and smiled, taking a decent drag off of his cigarette. “Only if you get me one.”

He almost grabbed three when he reached the refrigerator. "They're losing, aren't they?"

Her voice was muffled, but it still traveled far enough to reach him. "Yep, but it's early. They could bring it back."

He chuckled and made his way back to her. "Maybe."

 


	30. Snag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR1. We're back to serious and I've been meaning to pen this for a while. Inspired by a prompt given ('Trouble Lurking') by Siribear.

“I don't know what to tell you, man.” Troy tapped his cigarette on the small ashtray in front of him and shrugged. “It's been a busy couple of weeks. You read the update I sent, it's all there.”

“Busy's right. Just wanted to hear it from you since it's been months now. Besides, there's nothing like trading tales and bad coffee, right?”

“Nope. Nothing like it."

“Still, Hector Lopez, one mean son-of-a-bitch, dead. Never thought the day would come and Angelo's already crumbling.” Tim, his handler, took another cup of coffee when the waitress offered it, and continued once she was on the other side of the diner. “Any word on the Colombians?”

“They're unimpressed. Pretty much cut the link before Hector's body was cold. Orejuela's also apparently been fucking around with Angelo's woman, so that relationship's been on the rocks for a while now. If one doesn't shoot the other before long, I wouldn't be surprised.”

“Good. Maybe that'll save us the trouble.”

Troy held his coffee cup up, but didn't drink any. “Trouble? I'm thinking of the paperwork.”

“Nothing'll ever save us from that shit. Give it up. Anything new with those Westside punks?”

“They're feeling it too. They need their cars to function just as much as the Carnales need their drugs, and we've crippled them bad. Hell, it's all our plant's doing. They're taking them apart.”

“They?”

The coffee was burnt, but Troy was desperate enough for caffeine to ignore it. “Old habit. Remember Lin? I've given you the works on this at least twice.”

Tim waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. You've written a book on this by now. They could write a book on you.”

His grip tightened on his cigarette, but Tim didn't notice. “Make one of those shitty True Crime movies?”

“By the end of this you could. Anyway, back to the Rollerz. That's running good?”

“Yeah, the only thing that's dragging is the shit with the VK's and I've already said my piece on that to you and the Chief.”

Tim didn't take the dismissal for what it was, a cue to drop it, but Troy didn't think he would. “Gat's still throwing his weight around. Nothing you can do on that end?”

“No.”

The firm response made him raise an eyebrow. “No?”

“He's too high profile. You want to take out Johnny Gat, you need to plan for it. Now's not the time with things starting to swing in our favor, and don't you try to fucking push it.”

The whistle that came from Tim was high pitched, and Troy realized he was holding his cup too tight. “It's my job to ask. Remember that.”

He forced himself to relax. “Yeah, man, I get it. It's just the long haul to end all long hauls. Things are picking up ,and I'm trying to stay careful.”

“Good, because we can only do so much for you. Dig deep, but not too deep. I don't need to go over the same shit you've learned to recite in your sleep, do I?”

Troy took another drink of his coffee and began to enjoy the way the bitter stuff went down. “Nope.”

“Great. Now why don't we order some damn food already? Fucking breakfast at night, man. You can't go wrong with that.”

* * *

The coffee was about all he could stand, and by the time he left Troy wondered how he'd managed to go from relaxed to tense in record time.

But he'd been wound up from the moment Tim had called to get him out here, and when no part of the conversation revealed any changes to his current angle or routine it pissed him off more. It was a risk to meet up, even in neutral areas like this, and that was only done if something critical had come up, he'd failed to update, or he was being pulled.

All they did was shoot the shit in an old diner for a couple of hours, and the blatant waste of his time irritated him even if the two of them were on friendly terms.

He turned on his car and puffed away at his cigarette as he tried to get to the nearest Brown Baggers. Could still salvage the evening with a drink. “And maybe wash the taste of that damn coffee out,” he muttered.

The green light in front of him had just turned yellow when his phone started going off. He yanked it out as he slid to a stop and spotted V's number. The clock was pushing eleven, which was strange, but he'd had calls from her late before. This wasn't too out of bounds.

“Hey.” He could hear the phone shuffling and being moved around, almost roughly. No one answered, however. “V? Are you there?”

It wasn't obvious at first, but he could hear breathing. Uneven, heavy breathing. _“Hey there. This is bad.”_

Her chuckle turned into a cough, the sound wet and harsh. It made his hair stand on end. “W-what's bad?”

 _“I'm bleeding all over the place, man,”_ she said, her voice coming in and out. _“Lin's worse. Sharp knew.”_

Both facts hit him at once and he needed to get to them. “Where are you?”

“ _Lin's still trapped. I got out, but couldn't-”_ The phone shuffled and her words were even more unclear. _“-river. Shot us and dumped us in the fucking bay. Prick. Fucking prick put us in her car.”_

He jerked the wheel in the direction of the river and cut across a car that was dragging its wheels. “Hey, relax. I've got you. I'm on my way over and I want you to stay put. I'll send someone for Lin, but I need you to get some pressure on your wound.” Static cut in and he felt his heart jump. “V?”

It faded to nothing and the call dropped. That kicked his nerves into overdrive.

He immediately jumped to the next number on his list and tried not to miss a beat. He didn't have time to. “I need someone out to the bay to check for a blue Voxel. There's someone trapped inside and they need medical attention now.”

_“Can I get your name, Officer-”_

“It's Bradshaw, and I don't have the time or luxury to rattle off my badge number. Get over there and get them out before they drown, for fuck's sake!”

He hung up and thought fast. Did he need to call Tim? The line he called should've covered it, but he didn't know. His mental checklist frayed and he pushed it back into order as he skidded closer to his destination.

_The hell are you, V? Please be close, please be..._

His eyes widened at the sight of a junky car stuck on a piece of debris, and he pulled up beside it, his fingers slipping on the seatbelt. It finally came loose and he jumped out to run over to the driver's side.

He got the door open and V stared up at him, her head slumped on the wheel. “...Boy, you sure know how to drag your feet, Troy.”

She started to push herself up and his arms shot out to help her. Every inch of her was soaked, even her damn hat, and her teeth were trying not to chatter. The purple hoodie wrapped around her midsection was a shade of red she never touched, and when her hands floated up to brush him away he could see that they were bleeding too.

“Easy, easy. Thought I told you to get some pressure on that wound there?”

“Sharp. He's out there still.”

He leaned her back so that she could rest on the seat and placed a gentle pressure on the area he suspected the gunshot was. “We'll get the fucker, but I need you with me here, V. Help's coming for Lin, and everything will be okay.”

Her eyes were dark and ready to believe anything. "Okay?"

"Close enough to okay," he replied, feeling his voice waver.

“I'll take it. ...You've got some pretty eyes, you know that? There's a thing they do when light hits them...brown to green, or some shit,” she mumbled, her head tilted to get a better look at him. “Can't get enough of it.”

Her eyelids were drooping, and he cupped the side of her face as he tried to get his mind in line. “Are you trying to come on to me, because you're picking a fucking strange time, V.”

“I would have shit timing. You're not bad at all, chief.”

“Christ.” Her skin was cool and wasn't getting any warmer. “You're fucking gorgeous.”

The smile that comment got was small, and made his stomach twist as it faded. The pressure he was placing on the wound wasn't going to cut it. He needed to get her out of here now, and before that he needed to move her.

“V? Please don't fall asleep on me now, because I need you talking to me. Singing, rambling, complaining, anything.” Her eyes fluttered, but didn't focus on much as he pulled her arm around the back of his neck. “Got to move you too. Quick and fast, okay?”

His other arm curled under her knees and he lifted her as carefully as possible. The action made her wince as he rushed her over to the passenger seat of his car, and when he set her down he pressed her hands down over the temporary dressing.

“Hold that down for me. Can you do that?” She nodded, pale, but present and he smiled as he buckled her seatbelt. Then he threw himself behind the wheel and twisted the key. “Okay, I want you to start counting to one hundred.”

“C-counting?”

They took off, and he tried not to stare over at her. “Or you can start rattling off every insult in your book. Whichever you're more comfortable with.”

“...I'm not looking great, am I?”

“You're a million bucks,” he replied, nailing a corner without jostling her too much. His blood ran in his ears and he was starting to have trouble hearing her over it. “Hey, let's get the radio on. Want to bet it'll be the usual?”

He flicked it on and she tried to laugh. “Fuck. Old and angry just the way I like it.”

“Our station always delivers, eh?”

“Y-yeah.”

The hospital was too far off and he wished it was anyone else behind the wheel. He wasn't fast enough or precise enough to push his luck. “Know this one by heart enough to sing?”

She nodded out of the corner of his eye and he took another turn way too fast. The cops in the area were going to tag him at this rate, and he'd let them chase him all the way to the emergency room.

“I'm shit at the first verse, but the chorus is easy. You don't mind back up, right?”

Nothing came from his right and his knuckles were white on the wheel. “V?”

Her hand's grip was loosening on the cloth over her side, and her eyes were focused on a blank spot in front of her. No response. Everything went cold, and he wasn't ready to accept that yet.

“V? Wake up. Wake the _fuck_ up, because this isn't it! We're not done here, and I'm not doing this on my own! You got that?”

Something unintelligible came out of her mouth and he nearly swiped the car by him as he passed it. When he screeched into the hospital's parking lot he wasn't hearing anything from her anymore, and he ran her in on instinct alone. Said anything and everything to anyone who'd respond and found himself watching helplessly as they wheeled her off and refused to let him follow.

His badge wasn't anywhere near his person, but it was the only thing he could think of as he ran through the procedure that came with ID-ing a body at a crime scene. He still hadn't heard back from the people heading to the spot where Lin should've been, and listened intently for anything. Confirmations, denials, anything.

Would this end the same? No word at all as she bled out on the operating table?

He didn't even know her name.

Bile rose in his throat as he marched over to the nearest bathroom to try and scrub himself clean. Blood was still on his hands as they gripped the sides of the sink, and he choked down a breath as he told himself to inhale. Then exhale. Then inhale.

Each one stuttered just enough to make him clench his jaw, and he couldn't stand it.

He didn't know. He didn't know a damn thing and could do even less.

* * *

“What happened?”

Troy didn't move his eyes from her as Johnny stood by her bedside. The need for a cigarette was eating at him now, and would continue to do so until he was able to go outside. “It was a trap. Somehow Lin was made, and they got her to call V. Sharp must've figured he could kill two birds with one stone.”

Julius followed his eyes, and Troy had never seen the other man appear so severe. “Almost did. If he'd been a better shot we'd be doing more than mourning Lin.”

“That shouldn't have happened.”

“What? Lin?” Troy's mouth was set in a thin line as Julius held himself up straighter. “We needed the information, and she did exactly what was expected of her. Went beyond that. …Then pushed too far. She was a smart girl, but they played it smarter.”

And safer. Undercover work was a balance. A tightrope thin under your feet. Lin made waves, and he knew she would. He had to know.

The amount of indifference coming off of Julius in that moment made his skin crawl. He expected some distance due to the fact that they were losing people every day, but this was Lin. One of their top few. Lin, the Chinatown racer that didn't give a shit what anyone thought of her. She was gone and Julius was acting like there'd barely been a change in the weather.

“Was it worth it?”

Julius met his eyes and didn't give an inch. “It will be.”

He cracked the door open and went inside, leaving Troy alone and shaken. That didn't last long, however, as Johnny made his exit and slammed the door behind him.

“Sharp's a dead man.”

“Whoa,” Troy said, grabbing his arm as he went right by him. “Hang on a second!”

Gat spun on him fast. “What? You got something to say?”

Impulse had made him stop him, but now that he had, he did have something to share. “You want Sharp?”

He raised his chin. “Yeah.”

“Well, he made a big fucking mistake. I can have people on him in a couple of hours. Give me a few more than that, and I'll give you every place he's ever stopped to take a goddamn coffee break.”

“And you'll serve him up?”

“On a fucking platter.”

Johnny tilted his head to the side, assessing him, then grinned. “Getting your hands dirty for once? That's not like you.”

All Troy did in return was cross his arms. “No, it's not.”

“Should do it more often,” he said, heading down the hall.

He watched as the hands on his watch made slow revolutions after that. Julius hadn't left V alone yet, and he didn't know if he'd be allowed in there. Ten minutes passed while he considered this, until he went ahead and knocked anyway.

Julius looked up and he cracked the door open. V laid in her bed, shock plastered across her face, and Julius stopped him before he could get any closer.

“We need her out. The berries aren't going to be busy for long, and they're going to come here.”

Troy rubbed his eyes and glanced over at her. “I can hold them off for a bit, but yeah. I'll get her out, Jules.”

“Dex is checking into a few other things with Sharp and Price. Get in touch with him once you're both far from this place.”

V was watching them now with mild interest, but squeezed her eyes shut after a few seconds. Her bandaged hands went to her face shortly after Julius left, and when he reached her he could tell she was crying.

_Did he-did he actually...?_

He touched her arm lightly, withdrawing it after, unsure if any contact would be welcome. “Hey, it's okay. You're okay.”

“No. No, no, _no_.”

Lin. He could hear her talk about Lin, and she pried one of her hands away from her face to take his. Then she tried to grab his arm, and he wrapped one around her as she continued to shake.

He wasn't going anywhere. Not if he could help it.


	31. Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR2 done for the prompt 'gray'! The aftermath of a run through FUZZ.

“They seriously love this?” V tried to ask around the doughnut in her mouth. “This is about the same level as that time we stopped at Freckle Bitch’s.”

“It’s just fucking gold when you walk in there and manage to get the same discount. People can’t tell the difference between the genuine article and you if you’ve got even a shred of acting skill.”

She took another giant bite out of the powdered doughnut. “You trying to butter me up?”

“If it keeps you working!” Ken, the Fuzz cameraman said.

“Then keep on talking, my friend.” The powder was getting all over her mock uniform, and the hand she swiped across it streaked it more. “Shit. We don’t have anything else planned right now, do we?”

“Well, we can take a good ten minutes to listen for more calls, because I’ve got plenty of time if you’re willing to supply the footage.”

The rest of the doughnut went in her mouth as they turned the corner outside of the store and she nearly choked on it.

Standing next to their car was Troy, and he appeared nothing short of furious. Arms crossed, posture tense, and partially in uniform, he must’ve been on his way home when he took a detour.

Lucky her. Or maybe she would be lucky if she was able to stop coughing her lungs out. V pointed towards Ken, who’d gone pale, then shook her head hard. That didn’t help any when Troy walked right on over.

“Don’t. You,” he pointed right at the cameraman, “get out of here.”

Ken shook off the nervousness and plastered on a smile. “What’s the harm, Chief Bradshaw? Just going around and cleaning up the streets! I know you and our producers didn’t have the best talk, but-”

“You know how much those cameras run, pal? Want to guess how much I give a fuck?”

Mr. Gung Ho Action actually dropped it and left. Must’ve had too many bad runs with the Chief before, and V was almost impressed at the amount of ire Troy was generating. Then again, in the wake of the expression currently on his face most people would probably try to duck out at the earliest opportunity.

Instead, she hooked her fingers in the loops of her semi-regulation pants and pouted. “Not a fan?” He grabbed one of her arms and twisted it just enough to sting as he marched her over to his car. “Jesus! Guess not.”

The feeling of it being like a lecture gone wrong lasted until she felt cuffs actually get slapped on her wrists. Then he pushed her into the passenger side and slammed the door behind her. She balked, but pulled her feet up to get her arms in front of her by the time he got in.

“Not a fucking word,” he barked when she opened her mouth.

They took off past the few people who’d been around to witness it and V held on tight to the chain linking her hands. That hold loosened when he didn’t take the turn leading down to the station, but when he pulled onto her street she held them even tighter.

She wanted to ask him what he was doing. It was one thing to get her out and leave her in a place where she could hail a taxi, and another to drive her home.

They weren’t on the worst terms anymore. If that had been true, she would’ve cut and run, or punched the hell out of him for putting a hand on her. They weren’t even on bad terms, if she was being honest. The conversations they’d had over the phone had been civil, familiar even, and without the info he’d given she never would’ve been able to hit the gangs as hard.

But this was crossing a line. The small invisible line she’d carved between them the minute she’d woken up and found out exactly who he was. He’d crossed it, and she didn’t even feel anything close to angry or defensive. That surprised her more than anything, as he pulled into a spot right next to her hole-in-the-wall apartment.

The car idled for a good five minutes while he kept his eyes ahead of him. Maybe he was thinking the exact same thing.

“Do you know how hard you make my job sometimes?”

She opened her mouth then shut it fast when he glared at her. Rhetorical question. Of course.

“I don’t know if I even want to touch on any of that shit, especially with how it’s continuing to develop on all sides. There’s blind, there’s stupid, but maybe I’m giving myself too much credit for trying not to be either when four groups of people keep on trying to rip this place apart. Am I?”

V looked away.

“And what are you trying to do? Take it back? That still your plan? Even if the whole place goes up in fucking smoke?”

“I’m not the only one-”

“Wake the fuck up, V. You’re not, but I need someone to think about the consequences.” He sounded so worn in that instant that she had to turn, and he didn’t avoid her eyes. “Even for a minute.”

“You want me? Need me?” He didn’t say yes or no, but he didn’t need to. “Not sure we see the same person when I look in the mirror, Chief.”

Up close like this disappointment was hard to ignore as well. “Get them up.”

She held her wrists out and his radio picked up. _“-mugging down in Shivington-”_

“You know,” V offered, “it’s not as bad with the right person watching.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s goddamn bizarre seeing you waltz around in that.” Troy kept his attention on the radio, however.

“But I’m close. We could drop on by, and maybe you could give me a lesson or two.”

His head snapped towards her. “Lesson?”

“Just like old times.”

Another officer responded and Troy shut it off. “What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m not trying to prove a fucking thing! Maybe I’m just trying to-” _Understand?_

She closed her mouth and winced at how hard she bit her tongue. It was too late for him not to notice, but she tried to compose herself anyway.

“Look, they approached me first. They wanted to see some stupid shit, and I’m always down to take out assholes messing with people going about their business. Maybe I wanted to see what it was like for once.”

Troy stared at her for a good long while and V was once again the first to break eye contact. The moment she did, he ran a hand over his face and gestured towards her wrists.

They went up and he pulled his keys out to unlock the cuffs. The metal slid off, but he didn’t immediately let go of her. He ran a thumb over the edge of her old tattoo and she felt her chest tighten.

“It’s not as easy on the other side, is it?”

“Fuck no. I only had a handful of rules to follow and it chafed.”

He almost cracked a smile. “Course it did.”

“Shut up.” It was reflexive. Even now. She pulled away to take the fake hat off. “I can be responsible. I’d just rather be fun. Should try it yourself sometime.”

The amusement dropped fast, but his blank expression wavered. “Already did. It’s not that easy.”

“It can be.”

She pushed open the door and winked at him, but held up a finger as she wandered over to his side of the car. Leaning against his door, she waited for him to crack the window and wasn’t sure what to make of the wary way he was now looking at her.

“I’ll behave for a while, but if you ever get bored or want to crawl out from behind your desk, you could call.”

“Call?”

“Yeah. Relive the good old days. Help me take the Brotherhood or Samedi down a peg or two. Wouldn’t that be a trip?”

He lowered his eyes. “Wouldn’t it.”

His window was up before she could say anything else.


	32. Can't hold a tune (or your hand)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done for a prompt over at Tumblr (Hold My Hand, Boss and Johnny), so let's see how that works here. SR2, with a little help from The Beatles.

The place was really starting to clean up.

White walls, purple lights, decent carpet. V admired the glowing sign that welcomed any Saint that wandered in, and made her way downstairs. A few were trying to make the center their personal dance floor, and the pounding music made her sway in tune as she weaved by.

She wasn't there to dance, though. She was there for business, and the minute she walked into Pierce's office she closed the door behind her.

“That doesn't bother you?”

Pierce didn't even bat an eye. “Long as the music's good, they could play anything. Does make it hard to sleep now and then, though.” He waved her over and she could see he was just as excited now as he had been when he'd called her. “I've got something you're going to love. Might start with a high-speed chase, but if you keep up there's a prize waiting at the end.”

“Prize?” V rubbed the back of her neck and slid into the chair next to him. “Money, stuff, or...?”

“People. As in Brotherhood. As in the location of another one of their bases.”

She grinned and put her feet up on the table. “Ooh, now you're talking.”

“Apparently Maero's looking to get some business deals going. Get some drugs out, probably corner the rest of the market the Samedi's missing out on. We've been wondering where the hell their guys have been running these deals on the docks, but Carlos gave me a tip the other day about one of the areas down there. Lots of trucks move back and forth, and if we manage to tail one of them, we could head right back to the source.”

“You got a location?”

“Oh, yeah. Just called to check with someone in the area, and they say that they've seen two or three trucks already. Hell, maybe it'd be worth to jack one and see if you could ride it there too. Give you plenty of cover before someone starts shooting.”

“Hit them, hit the deal, and profit all around.” She put her feet down and sat up. “Nice work.”

“No problem, boss. Carlos did get some work in, but I did do some heavy legwork there.”

V's raised eyebrow drew a nervous laugh from him, but she let it go. “Any other word from Carlos?”

Pierce shook his head. “Nothing, aside from what he passed me on this. Got him on something big?”

“Maero's not exactly a small guy,” she muttered, as she tried not to feel anxious. “I told him not to do anything I wouldn't do, but I've done damn near everything. That might not have been the best thing to say.”

“Want me to let you know if he drops by?”

“As soon as he walks right through that door,” she said, running towards the garage.

* * *

Somehow she'd lost driving privileges. 

Johnny had gone straight to the driver's side of their creaky Venom, and didn't even bother to ask before he got in. Seeing as she was the reason it was now making noises she could understand his feelings, but that didn't stop her from scowling as she climbed in the other side.

“Where?”

She sat back in her seat and took her sweet time while she was putting the address in her phone. The volume was raised to its highest level, and the robotic voice stumbled over the words.

The order to move forward and take a right, however, wasn't difficult to understand.

Gat returned the dirty look she was giving him and took off.

“I'm driving the truck.”

“No.”

“Seriously. We get there and my ass is going in that seat.”

“No.”

She checked her guns and ground her jaw as he kept his eyes on the road. “Yes.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes, and you're going to let me.” That made him look back at her and she wondered just how long it would take the car to crash if she tried to tackle him. “Won't you, Johnny?”

He tapped a finger on the wheel and tried to ignore her.

“Won't you?”

“You scratch anything, and I'm ripping the wheel out of it,” he said as they screeched onto the road her phone pointed out. “Don't need no truck to find them.”

“You'll have to talk to Pierce about that then, because I'm not doing it.”

“And you owe me a fucking car.”

“Seriously?”

The sharp glare said it all.

V sighed. “Fine.”

They came to a stop and she didn't wait for him to get out. She tore the belt off and sprinted towards the Brotherhood milling around their target, not giving one thought towards being sneaky. She wanted to make them pay, and she wanted to beat Gat. Neither of those things meant good things for them.

Her shots were on point as they took the first guy out and Johnny mowed down the second as she crouched low and aimed for one other member's knees.

He fell to the ground and she began fishing around in the pockets of the guy by her. Nothing.

V dragged his body off to the side and then moved to the next. Nothing.

Her eyes went to Johnny and he was moving them out of sight as well, but didn't have any keys. Swearing under her breath, she ran up to the large, red Compensator and kept her fingers crossed.

A pair of keys hung from the ignition and a slow smile spread across her face. “Fuck, yes.”

She climbed in, turned on the radio, and had just found The Mix when Johnny joined her. He shut the door and wiped a bloody hand on his pants. “They leave them?”

“Guess so. Must've been messing around right before we got here, so what was the harm?” A familiar hook started and she gasped. “Shit, I don't believe it.”

“What?”

“I haven't heard this in years.” She hummed a few of the notes, then hit the gas when an overloaded Brotherhood truck careened past their location. “Gotcha. Nothing like a little mood music.”

The cheery tune continued to go as she tried to nail every corner the truck in front of them took, and Johnny held on to the bar in the ceiling tight. By the third time she scraped by a set of cars scattered by their 'friend' she knew he wasn't going to throw her out onto the road, so she cranked up the volume and started whistling.

Johnny lowered his sunglasses to give her a look, and she laughed. “Come on. It's a classic!” Her voice hit the pitch, but she didn't bother to make it neat. “It's such a feeling that my love, I can't hide, I can't hide-”

His grip on the ceiling bar tightened when she hit the brakes then burned the tires to accelerate. “Fucking A.”

“I think you'll understand, when I say that something, I want to hold your-hey, man. You should totally join in.”

His response came fast. “No.”

“Singing's fun, but it's just not the same without a partner.” She sang louder and even more off-key. “And when I touch you I feel happy inside. It's such a feeling that my love, I can't hide, I can't hide...”

The wheels screeched and his mouth was a thin line. “Not fucking happening.”

“Aww, you're going to be like that? Fine,” she sighed, pouting. “Oh well. You're free to join in whenever you'd like.”

Their car slammed against another and Gat appeared ready to strangle her. She gave him an innocent smile and kept on going even though the song had already ended.

“When I feel that something, I want to hold your hand. I want to hold your hand...”

When they crashed through the gate, her pitch went too far out of her range, making her voice crack. The squawk was about as ungraceful as it got, but Johnny's snickering made it at least ten times worse.

"Fuck off, Gat."

"Hey, you're the one aiming to be the next Miss Thing. Don't let me stop you."

She should've punched him, but she missed that kind of smile. God, she missed it.

The song got a good two or three rotations during the firefight that exploded into motion once they lumbered in, and when Pierce picked up the phone after, he waited for her to stop singing to say something.

_“You seriously singing that tune, boss?”_

“Blame the radio, it put me in a good mood. Going to send some boys over to get this place cleaned up?”

_“They're already on their way. Figured you'd want some backup on that, but we need people there to keep the Brotherhood from coming back anyway.”_

“Psh, backup. The only thing I was lacking that on was the song. Johnny wanted to be a stick in the mud.” Gat gave her the finger, and she feigned offense. “Come on! I Want to Hold Your Hand isn't meant for one.”

A line of curses came out of him when he turned to grab more of the discarded weapons and she did her best to sound dejected.

“He left me hanging, Pierce.”

He chuckled. _“You know who you're talking about, right?”_

“Yeah, I do.” She smiled and watched Gat leave. “I do.”


	33. Earn your stripes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canonization day.

She heard the shouts before she saw any sign of purple. People pushed by her as she walked towards the sound, and she wondered if they had the right idea.

The Saints were establishing themselves, but rarely ventured out of their chosen territory. Shivington was a VK's paradise, so she'd gotten used to yellow and gold lining everything, but purple? It always made her do a double-take whenever she'd catch it on her street and the guys flying it always bore the color with pride.

Was that Julius's doing? Did he make them feel like they could conquer anything?

Another person darted around her and she held onto that curiosity as she saw the large group gathered around the ruined church. Two people stood on the steps, and she recognized them instantly.

Julius held his head high as he presided over the event, taking in everything at once. He didn't have to say a single word to distinguish himself as leader and even now she was aware of his authority. The man to his right was the same one that had been with him a few nights ago, and much of that same authority was coming off of him as well.

Both were pretty well-kept compared to the other Saints, but if they were the ones running it, they had to stick out somehow.

_The bossman, and his second, eh? Holy hell. Way to give a good first impression._

Purple was everywhere as she stayed on the edge and her eyes widened as she caught what was really happening.

A wide circle held a few men and women, most of them unconscious or close to it, and one of the last left standing was currently beating the shit out of the person under him. The bleached hair stood out, but when she caught sight of his tattoos she felt her jaw drop. “Well, shit.”

It'd been a long time since she'd seen Johnny Gat, and as he stood up and cracked his neck he was no less striking. You only had to see him once to remember him, and it'd been years since she'd seen him crossing through Shivington. He raised his chin to the crowd as they cheered him on, eating up every minute of it.

The man on the ground groaned and Johnny nudged him with his foot. “Get up.”

She couldn't hear anything over the sounds milling around her, but couldn't take her eyes off of Gat as he moved in a slow, deliberate circle.

“You done shooting off your fucking mouth then?”

A chill ran down her spine and she realized this was likely the exact reason that those people were running in the opposite direction of this spot.

He kicked the man in the ribs this time and walked towards the crowd, making them part before him. His unlucky target was dragged behind him by the his collar of his black t-shirt, and Gat deposited him outside of the circle.

Then he dusted off his hands and turned enough to notice her. Sheer and complete panic washed over her in an instant.

“What do we have here?” The smile that accompanied that question wasn't a friendly she was familiar with. “Thought we were done for today.”

She tore her eyes away from him to glance at the stairs and settled on Julius and Troy. The former appeared to be pleasantly surprised, but the latter? He appeared anything but.

Julius shook his head. “Not yet. Glad to see you join us, playa. Thinking about taking up the flag?”

Words didn't come easy with Johnny _fucking_ Gat staring at her, but she got them out anyway. “Yeah, if you'll take me.”

“Ain't that easy,” Gat cut in. “Got to prove yourself first.”

She wasn't sure if she liked the sound of that. “What?”

“You're at a canonization, kid,” Troy stated, his cigarette dangling from his mouth. “You want in? You get through it.”

Julius watched her closely as she switched her attention between the two of them, her head trying not to spin. “Then what are you all waiting for?” she challenged.

Troy raised his eyebrows and Johnny laughed, amused by her response rather than put off. “That's fucking rich. ”

Julius gestured for him to step back and Gat scowled as he merged back into the crowd. The circle shifted so that she was now trapped in it, and when a few eager Saints stepped inside she realized that was what she had been watching earlier. Some poor sap's canonization.

Now she had to fight for hers.

Swinging the first punch wasn't hard. It got infinitely more complicated when two decided to force her to the ground after scoring a couple of hits to her ribs. Her boots had a thick sole, and she aimed squarely for knees, balls, anything that hurt.

That let her crawl away and score a few more hits of her own, elbowing one of them in the face, before another wrapped their arms around her from behind. The back of her head collided with them and she stumbled, falling to the ground when she became as rattled as them.

Someone took this chance to hit her right on the jaw, blood flying, and she scratched at them when her adrenaline pushed her through the pain.

Her boot did a much better job when she caught the man in front of her in the face. When she spun around, however, someone had the same idea, and she swore a blue streak when the two-handed strike connected with her nose. She'd never broken it before, but the amount of pain lancing through her face made her feel like it had been.

Blood was everywhere and she felt a disconnect between what she was thinking and what she was doing. She was acting. She had to.

Hit, hit, hit, dodge, kick, hit.

When her sense came back she was straddling another's chest, her knuckles aching. They'd split at some point, and she continued to swear under her breath as she waited for the person under her to respond. They didn't.

That left her with no other option but to get to her feet and wait.

When no one moved or made any further attempts to approach her, she bent over to put her hands on her knees, gulping down air when she wasn't coughing it back out. The rush to defend, to fight, drained away, but it had been almost intoxicating. Losing it highlighted every injury covering her, and she was surprised her legs were able to keep her up.

She thought she could hear some whistles and cheers, but only her ragged breathing registered. The whole world was a small blurred tunnel that she was regaining her focus on with every second.

So when someone put a hand on her shoulder, she didn't respond like she would've in any other state. No, her adrenaline spiked and she took as hard a swing as she could manage, aiming to hit anything.

What she ended up hitting was her 'savior' from the alley, and he stumbled as she reeled herself back in horror. _Fuck,_ he mouthed as she saw him touch his busted lip. “You're no soft touch.”

Loud laughter came from her left, but she was rooted to the spot.

He shook it off, but didn't come as close as he did before. “Welcome to the club. Throw a few of those at the other gangs, and I think we'll be in business.”

Julius came down the steps towards them and she stood up straight in spite of the pain. “Think you could do some good work here?”

She nodded, slowly at first, then with intent.

“Good, because we need you.” He placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “Everyone here needs you, and you are going to be part of the change that that this place needs.”

 _You._ That word rang in her head as he turned away and she felt ready. As for what, she didn't know, but she was ready to find out.

She spat more blood out and wiped her face on the sleeve of her hoodie as another guy walked around her to stand by Troy. A few guys back from her days at Stilwater U rocked his style, and the younger man was no exception.

The first few words out of his mouth she didn't catch, but when he turned to address her he gave her a smile. “Not bad! Trying to give Johnny some competition?”

 _Johnny Gat? Fuck no,_ her mind told her.

Gat apparently shared her opinion as he circled the edge of her vision and chuckled. “You saying I fight like a pissed off house cat, Dex?”

“Claws are claws. Still sharp enough to cut.” He said something else to Troy then left, walking back to the church with the others.

Johnny gave her one last appraising glance and followed, leaving only a few scattered Saints and Troy. He lit a new cigarette and winced at the cut, but didn't say anything about it. Instead he walked past her to pick up something off the ground, and dusted it off before holding it out to her.

She took her hat and put it on, tugging the brim down low. “...Thanks.”

“No problem. Want to get cleaned up?”

Her nose throbbed as her fingers grazed it, and she gave him a small nod.

* * *

She'd waited outside on the steps while he'd gone inside, stretching her legs as much as they allowed. The other members that had gone through the canonization that day had spoken to Julius one by one, none of them turned away, and she watched them linger before going their own ways. It was interesting to see that kind of faith being placed in them in spite of what should've been classified as a failure, and the questions kept on racking up as she flexed her hands.

Halfway through her sloppy stretches she gave up and laid back on the stairs to stare at the sky. The bright sunlight tried to lull her to sleep, and when her eyes tried to close for the third time she heard steps beside her.

“Hey.” She didn't bother to reply as Troy took a seat, his cigarette burning away. It was making her want one. “This might help.”

The wet washcloth was cool and felt amazing when she grabbed and pressed it against her skin. Scrubbing the blood off wasn't as great, but without a shower it was the only way she was going to get rid of it.

“You got a name, kid?”

She gently ran the cloth over her cheek as she fished for the first available nickname she could run with. “V.”

He raised an eyebrow. “V? Like Victoria?” She held the cloth to her nose and shook her head. “Vanessa?” She shook her head again. “Valerie?” That earned him a look and he chuckled. “Bad pick, eh? All right. V it is.”

Pushing herself back up, she dropped the washcloth and undid her mangled pigtails. A lot of her hair was tangled and matted, but smoothing it out gave her something to focus on. “You're Troy, right?”

“Yeah. Sorry to cut out on you like that.”

That had bothered her a bit, but logic undercut the irritation that tried to bubble up. “Cops were out. I think I can understand why.”

He gave her a faint smile and she tried to return it. “Julius has something he'd like you to do. Up for it?”

She tied her hair back into a low ponytail and got to her feet. It ached to move, but she tried not to show it. “Sure.”

“Got a gun?”

That made her pause. “...No?”

“Well, you're going to need a piece for this,” Troy said, flicking at his cigarette. “Let's get you set up.”

* * *

She should've been mad at him. Pissed off in some form or fashion after he'd confirmed and helped throw her into the fistfight to end fistfights.

Instead they were scanning the guns at the Friendly Fire, and whenever one would catch her eye for longer than thirty seconds he'd ask for the man behind the counter to get it. She'd never have known that he'd worn such a disapproving expression upon seeing her earlier, but then again, she'd fought to impress. Maybe she'd impressed even him.

It would've been a whole lot easier to stay annoyed if he'd been a fucking asshole, but as he forked over the cash to pay for the weapon it was quickly becoming clear that he was not. Even traded a joke or two with the guy up front when he wasn't asking her if he should bother getting the gun gift wrapped for the lady.

That made her blush, but she wasn't about to let him see it.

“When's the last time you've been to a range?” Troy asked as they walked out.

“Range? Never.”

“Last time you fired one of these?”

“A while.” He glanced at her and the uncertainty there made her bristle. “I know how to use the fucking thing. Keep it in front and shoot, right?”

“Sure, if you're at the carnival, kid. Real life's never that simple.”

They rounded the corner at the end of the street and V nearly ran into him when he stopped. “What's up?”

“Little eager there?” She frowned and he folded his arms. “Got to give you some background before we go any further. The Vice Kings have been trying to take over the area. It's been pretty gradual, but I see more and more yellow every day. The big problem with this aside from them crossing us, is the fact that they've been shaking down anyone within reach. That can't go on, especially if they're taking it out on the neighborhood.”

“So, what's the plan? Take them out?”

“No other way around it,” he replied, looking grim. “You don't have Saint's colors yet. That's your cover, and you can use it to your advantage. There's a couple of groups that we need to deal with, and once that's done the VKs will know not to fuck with our turf. Still up for it?”

 _Point and shoot. Point and shoot._ “Hell yeah.”

Troy sighed. “Be careful. I've got you covered, but stay focused. This isn't a movie, and you don't get any chances to take back your fuck ups, got it?”

“Okay, chief. No problem,” she muttered, walking ahead.

It didn't take them long to find the men. Yellow jerseys stood out like sore thumbs as they lingered on the street opposite from them, and V kept one hand on her gun as she checked for cars and crossed. Troy had said to be careful. That was a no-brainer, but there was no subtle way to go about shooting someone, and as she got closer and closer she felt sweat begin to gather on her forehead.

This was happening. She was going to do this. Clamping down on her anxiety, she forced herself to think of nothing as she gave two of the three men a lively smile, and whipped her gun out moments after.

It was easy to point and shoot. You didn't think about the result until after the loud sound stopped echoing in your ears, but when the first dropped and she unloaded into the second she was caught by the red. It bloomed, and she remained fixated on it as it continued to grow.

Troy grabbed her by the arm and she jumped. “Hey! What did I say?”

His gun was out and she swept her eyes from that, to the other body slumped next to the two she'd taken out. Then they swung back to him. Her stomach lurched and she covered her mouth. The grip loosened as she turned away, and she realized she was shaking.

“V?”

“Give me a second.” She swallowed down the bile and opened and closed her hands. “Fucking hell. Point and shoot, my ass.”

Pulling away from him, she took one last look at the bodies and moved on. It didn't take long for Troy to follow, and he didn't travel as far back as he had before.

The next group went better. Her mind wasn't allowed to wander and she took them out herself. The last, she openly taunted, her voice wavering as she approached them, and took them out without much of a fight.

But that only distracted her. The sick feeling settling over her refused to leave, and when she fished a set of keys out of the VK's pocket to his yellow junker, Troy stopped her again.

“Can you drive?”

“Of course I fucking can-”

“Hold out your hands.”

She froze at first, but complied. Most of the tremors had passed after the first group, so when he let her go she breathed a sigh of relief.

“...Where to? Aside from far from here?”

He took a drag off of his cigarette and watched her out of the corner of his eye. “Got to dodge the heat generated from this, so anywhere should do.”

The engine started and she flipped on the radio, not even bothering to pay attention to what was playing.

“You know what?” Troy asked. “I've been jonesing for a funbag.”

A smile crept onto her face, and she took the right turn for Freckle Bitch's. “Jonesing? Now that's something you don't hear anymore.”

He shrugged. “Trying to make me feel old, kid?”

“Hey, if you're old, you're old. No point in denying it.”

That made him snort and she laughed nervously as she scanned her mirrors for any flashing lights. Nothing.

Even when they had pulled into the parking lot she didn't stop checking them, her nerves making her chew on her lip enough to make it sting. “This good?”

“Sure.”

He popped open the door and climbed out. Instead of walking off, however, he circled around the front and paused by her side. Her grip on the wheel hadn't let up, and she had to pry a hand off to lower the window.

“Yeah?”

“Let me get you something.”

The idea of food turned her stomach. Even on a good day Freckle Bitch's could be rough, but now she doubted she'd even be able to get through a bazoom. The fact that she felt like running didn't help either, but when she looked up at him she hesitated. “I'm not really hungry.”

He didn't push it, but she could see that he was hoping she'd go. “You sure?”

The soft tone brought out a weird range of reactions in her head and she found herself scowling at half of them. Not at him, though. “No. Not at all.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and the corner of his mouth curved up.

* * *

Troy pushed the small container of fries towards her and V picked one up to twist between her fingers.

“Heavy stuff, eh?” The fry broke and she gave him a tense look. “All this fried shit. Probably shouldn't have dragged you in here.”

The small breath she took in was shaky. “Nah, I like it. Most of the time.”

“Just not today.”

Half of the fry went in her mouth and she regretted it. “Eh.”

Troy wasn't doing much eating either as he poked around his small meal. A fry went here and there as he figured out where to put his cigarette, and when he pulled out a miniature O-Ring he placed it on the table and pushed it towards her.

It rolled as far as the tray before coming to an abrupt stop. “You can stop, you know.”

He furrowed his brows. “Stop what?”

“Trying to cheer me up. It was shitty out there, and I was shitty about it, so you don't have to sugarcoat anything. I'm not some dumb kid who needs to be eased into things.”

“Needing some time to think after killing someone doesn't make you a kid. It's not easy to deal with at first, and it's not supposed to be.”

“You sure are treating me with kid gloves, though,” she replied, staring down at the toy.

He frowned and put his cigarette down on the edge of the ashtray. “What do you want me to say? That it gets easier? It does get easier. That's the worst part.”

She shifted in her seat and met his eyes. “You sound ancient when you put it like that.”

“True, and maybe I've had some trouble accepting it too, but I've had more time to think about it. A lot more.” He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “When it's something that you have to deal with on a regular basis you have two ways of dealing with it. Easy acceptance, or caution. You get comfortable or you don't, but in this life you are going to have to be prepared to face situations where someone's going to get hurt.”

“That happens on the way home every day. I'm from Shivington. You could probably put a sign somewhere counting the number of days that've passed since someone got stabbed. Guess what the number would be? Zero.”

“You ever been in a situation like that?”

“Too often.”

“And what did you think then?”

V rubbed the back of her neck. “I really don't feel like getting shanked today, so I'm going to fuck off or punch the hell out of them?”

His mouth twisted. “But it's either you or them, right?”

She dropped her hand. “...Yeah.”

“With these guys you can't hesitate. They get in this for a variety of reasons, but most are going to take the quickest opportunity to shoot down someone in rival colors. Whether you decide to run or fight back, you need to know what your course of action is the minute another banger shows up.”

“Even if I try to run?”

“Sometimes the fight isn't worth the cost. You pick your battles and come back swinging harder.” She almost cracked a smile, but the serious expression on his face killed that fast. “You willing to do that?”

She let it sink in for a few minutes, twisting and turning the idea in her head. Then she remembered Julius's hand on her shoulder.

 _It all starts with one._ “Yeah, because Julius is right. Things do need to change. The other day a friend of mine nearly got his head smashed in. The Rollerz that did it didn't give a shit how many people saw them, either. They knew they could get away with it before anyone got the nerve up to call the cops.”

Troy picked up his cigarette and frowned deeply. “What happened?”

“I beat the shit out of them, what do you think?” she snapped. “They were going to kill him over a discount. How fucked up is that?” V rubbed her eyes and put her chin in her hands. “This is what the city deals with every day, and while I knew it was bad, I had no idea just how much. Might as well tattoo 'ignorant idiot' on my forehead.”

“It's not your fault.”

“Sure, but I can't make excuses for that. Too many people are dying over stupid shit, and I want to help. Anything you need-”

“Whoa, stop there,” Troy said, raising a hand. “It's not about doing anything. It's about doing what's needed. Making hard choices. This isn't the life for everyone, and jumping in feet first isn't going to make it any easier to handle. You want this?”

Funny, with the way he was looking at her, she figured he'd be able to figure out the answer. “Yes.”

“All right, then. I want you to remember a couple of things, though. One, this is a choice, not a sentence. You want out? You can get out, because it's not going to get any easier than this. Two, you're never alone. Any time you think you're in too deep or need help, grab a couple of people from the church or call. No one-man-or woman-army shit. That'll just get you killed.”

“Call you, or...?”

“Got a phone?”

She fished around in her hoodie and got her cell out. It wasn't looking too hot, but it was working. He took it after she held it out and after a minute she had someone new on her contact list.

“Easy as that,” he said, handing it back.

“I can ask some pretty stupid things,” she said, glancing at the highlighted numbers. “You sure you want to be on my speed-dial?”

The earnest expression on his face made her drop her eyes. “Nothing's ever too stupid to ask about, got it?”

She nodded and when he shifted his attention away from her she relaxed. The food was a lost cause, however, and she wrinkled her nose at it after flicking away a fry.

“Had enough?”

“...Yeah.”

Troy grabbed their trays and gestured towards the door. “I'll take you home.”

“Nah, man, don't worry. I can catch a taxi.”

“It's no problem,” he insisted, and walked away before she could argue it further.

In the end, having him drive meant that she could curl up in the passenger seat and think about nothing. Troy checked on her every now and then, his cigarette switching hands as he went between the mirrors and the radio, and she didn't have the energy to get irritated or annoyed.

No, she didn't feel like doing anything other than dragging her aching body to bed. That was her first priority as soon as she was able to escape this car.

_It gets easier. That's the worst part._

Those two sentences, however, would stick with her always.


	34. Something extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR2 done for a prompt ('Cookies') including Shaundi or Carlos and the Boss, so why not all three?

Everything was blurry as she rubbed her eyes and rolled over. If this wasn’t going to be another hangover from hell, then it was going to be one of the minor ones, making her head buzz and ache enough to want to sleep an extra eight hours.

V pulled at the blanket strangling her legs and kicked it off, not wanting to bother with it. She was too awake to want it anymore, and needed to grab a toothbrush to exorcise the demons nesting in her mouth.

“Fucking tequila,” she muttered, throwing an arm over her eyes.

She started when she heard light snoring to her left, but relaxed when she saw the source. Johnny was sprawled on top of the covers with a bottle falling out of his hand, passed out enough to actually let his eyes close for once.

The strain didn’t show in moments like this. It was almost too private for her to catch, and after a minute she forced herself to get up. The path to the bathroom was clear as she stumbled towards it, and she did her best to stay quiet as she closed the door behind her. By some miracle Gat still hadn’t woken up by the time she’d brushed her teeth, and she decided not to press her luck by risking a shower.

Grabbing a few things off of the floor, she opted to raid Gat’s shower for herself, and gave him one last glance before slowly closing the door behind her.

The fact that the HQ was quiet right now was startling. A few Saints were scattered about when she made her way downstairs after cleaning up, but nowhere near the crowds that she was expecting.

It worked well for her on days like this when she wasn’t in the mood to spread her arms wide and be the leader they pledged themselves to. No, what she wanted was to grab a large jug of orange juice and ooze into the couch cushions until her head stopped pounding.

“Hey, boss.” Her eyes swept over Carlos and Shaundi as she walked over to the fridge and she raised a silent hand. “Long night?”

The groan that came out of her mouth was a bit too accurate as she lugged the juice out and placed it on the countertop by them.

She and Johnny had started the evening by counting shots, but when the numbers bled together in no time flat, there was no need to pretend anymore. They’d been aiming to get drunk, and it’d been worth it for the few times she’d managed to get him to laugh.

As to what he was laughing about she couldn’t remember one bit, but the bruise forming on her hip told her it probably involved her falling off of something or giving a terrible demonstration. There was no telling with them.

V had started to chug as much juice as possible when Shaundi pushed a plate toward her. “Cookie to go with that?”

The container hit the counter and V stared at the plate of chocolate chip cookies. “What?”

“She brought them in this morning. Should’ve seen the crowd surrounding her. I think they all wanted one,” Carlos said, nudging the plate in his direction.

Shaundi caught this and tried to swat at him. “Hey, hands off. You got one earlier, now it’s the boss’s turn.”

Carlos withdrew his arm, but kept an eye on them as Shaundi pushed the plate forward again. Then the two waited. Shaundi was half-draped across the counter on her side, completely at ease, while Carlos tried to keep as straight a face as possible. V’s raised eyebrow got a smile out of him, however, and she shook her head at them.

“Ugh, you two. It’s tough to stay in a shit mood with this kind of resistance.” She picked one of the cookies and turned it over. “Where’d you get the recipe from, anyway?”

“Laura.”

She whistled. “Got to be Grade-A shit then.” _Top-notch ingredients and that little extra something,_ V bet. It was sorely tempting to consider on a day like this, so she bit into it. She waited, took another bite, then frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Shaundi asked, raising her head up.

“You said you got the recipe from Laura, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Weird. Unless she’s perfected the art of hiding the taste, I’m kinda confused.”

“There’s nothing in them. Not everything I eat or drink has an extra. ….Just a lot does,” Shaundi said with a grin. “Sometimes a cookie’s a cookie.”

Half the cookie was gone and V didn’t hesitate to grab another. “Damn good one at that. I don’t think it ever would’ve occurred to me that you could cook.”

“Learned a long time ago. Cooking’s kind of like chem for the kitchen. You get a lot of stuff together, throw it in the oven and see how it goes. If it works, you get that shit out and go for it. If it doesn’t, you adjust the amounts, throw it back in and wait. Even if that doesn’t fix it, it’ll probably still work good enough for a late-night snack.”

“Maybe I should get some lessons from you then. Never could find a good way to cook fancy stuff without burning the place down,” V sighed. “Fucking shame.”

“Really? I’ve seen too many apartments go that way. Seriously blows.”

“Could always try me, boss,” Carlos offered.

“Oh? Got some hidden talents too?”

Her friendly tone got a laugh out of him and he shrugged. “Big family meant that help was always needed, so I picked up a thing or two.”

“Could be fun.”

“It is,” he said, grinning. "Always more fun with company, though."

“Shit, looks like we’re going to have a cooking bonanza at some point. Get Pierce in on this, and it’ll be one hell of a party.” She pushed back her chair and wandered towards one of the couches in the living room. “Until then, I’m out.”

She crashed out on the couch and was dead asleep before they could head after her.


	35. Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between SR3 and 4, though closer to 4. Based around the prompt 'Abandoned', and I wish I'd done something fluffier closer to V-Day, but oops.

His tie was crooked. At least that’s what Anne told him before she started to adjust it. She was quick and precise to a degree that he never would be, and when it was done she gave him a smile. Troy gave her one back, but when he caught himself in the mirror later he pulled it out of alignment. Just a hair.

It was the night of the ball, and this time the uniform was stifling. Maybe it was the lights, or maybe it was the people, but as he went through his routine he couldn't stay focused.

It was the lack of purple he realized after a few minutes. He kept on checking for it, even though his mind kept on telling him not to. She hadn't been to Stilwater for months now. Not since...that.

He'd seen something like it coming for a while – she'd withdrawn from nearly everything else in Stilwater - but he hadn't let himself believe it. Even with the way she'd been visiting less and less, with more time spent at Johnny's side than anywhere else.

Like an idiot he'd ignored it completely up until the point that she was shoving it in his face.

“ _You've earned it, you know. The space. The white picket fence and all of the bells and whistles.”_

Which didn't include her. His attempt to prove her wrong nearly led to a broken nose on his end, but he couldn't blame her. Pulling a ring at that moment and not before had been a mistake.

Fucking idiot.

“Expecting someone?”

Anne held his arm as he scanned the room, and he almost gave her the fake smile he was flashing everyone else. “Not sure yet.”

“Not sure, or...”

“It's hard to guess. They don't follow the schedule, so I keep an eye out for anything strange.”

“Oh, right. The Saints?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the Saints.”

Anne laughed. “I thought purple was their hallmark?”

“A bigger one's trouble, but purple's usually your best bet.”

She started searching the room too and he gently pulled her towards the bar. If red came through that door he didn't want Anne to see him react to it.

He met her at a work party a month ago. She was a friend of a distant friend, someone that did secretarial work for a living, so they traded stories on the joys of pushing papers. It made him that much more sympathetic to Linda for putting up with his shit over the years, and when Anne invited him out for drinks after that he considered it briefly, but said he had a busy week ahead of him.

It had been getting close to a minor holiday. Things had been picking up, and people always got antsy around then, even with cease fires down and lines drawn.

She gave him her number anyway. Scratched it out on a napkin and gave him a smile with it. Nothing complicated. So, within a couple of days he took a page from V for once. Acted. Didn't think too much about it, and he'd enjoyed the company. Let himself get used to it. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Even now that question kept on popping up, and he wasn't able to give it a straight answer.

He was summoned to the stage and Anne gave him a small kiss before he went. The commissioner welcomed him to his usual spot by his side and he kept his hands folded behind his back. Normally this would be the point where he'd fight to stay awake. Not this year.

They had begun to skim the intros when a small group in purple made their way in, rounding the edge of the room to take their designated table. He turned his head just enough to catch the red and felt his throat go dry.

Everything was on autopilot after that. He went up, gave the usual spiel, and counted down the time until he was able to get off of that stage.

Anne was waiting for him at their table, and she waited for him to polish off his champagne before putting a hand on his arm. “Everything okay? You looked really uncomfortable during the last part.”

“It's nothing. Just...nerves.”

She let go and they went through dinner, his attempts at conversation some of the worst he'd made in a while. It got easier as other officers came by, each taking a moment to shake his hand or greet them. The alcohol definitely boosted his mood, but when a familiar suit came by, he wished he'd kept the bottle for himself.

“Evening. How's it going over on this side of the pond?” Pierce asked, offering his hand.

Troy shook it. “About the same, though I think Stilwater's starting to miss its stars. Hard to get people to come here if the main attractions are running off to other places.”

“Hey, paving the campaign trail's no easy thing! You want to go political you've got to travel, but you're right. Never hurts to remember your roots. Got to show up in the old hometown now and then.”

“Celebrity 101?” Troy joked, leaning back in his chair.

“Proper care of your media empire 101! Bit more complicated than that.”

Pierce noticed Anne at this point and Troy tried not to frown. “Anne, this is Pierce Washington-”

“No, I know who he is! Those are quite the advertisements you've got up now. Half the girls in the office can't get over them.”

She shook his hand with a smile and Pierce dropped the uncomfortable look he was sporting for mild awe. “Really? Do tell! I've been wondering how they've been testing with the public, and every vote counts.”

Anne would be welcoming. Troy almost laughed at the irony. “You're not going to throw that out here, right?”

“My business pitch? Hell, no. Why would I need to when I'm talking to a fan?”

She laughed with him and Troy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, ease up a bit. At least until after the next round of drinks hit, eh?”

“Ready for the bottle too? I feel you.” V's voice made him sit up as she put a hand on Pierce's shoulder.

He hadn't seen that dress on her in a while – red, short, strapless – but it wasn't difficult to remember the first sound out of her mouth once he'd helped her out of it. That trip down memory lane ended fast, but his fingers twitched as he carefully looked her over.

Her lips were red as well, and they curved up as she continued to face Pierce. She wasn't drunk, but the flush on her face told him she'd already had plenty. “Mingling?”

“Yeah, boss. Doing what we do,” Pierce said, glancing back at her. “And maybe I was having some fun too. Thought I'd see how...you know, the Chief's holding up.”

“Right.” Her dark eyes flicked between him and Anne, and Troy felt his teeth start to grind together. “Evening, Chief. Busy night?”

He shrugged and folded his arms. It took a few seconds for him to keep his jaw from locking, but he wasn't going to freeze up here. “No more than most. Just more schmoozing and dancing involved.”

“Shouldn't be more than the usual, unless you're feeling spry. Though I'm seeing a lot of new faces here. You might have to show these young uns how it's done.”

That almost got her a scowl, but he reigned it in at the last minute. “Cut a rug? Not my thing. Besides, I don't think they need to see me make an ass of myself on the dance floor. Might leave a bad impression.”

V cracked a smile and he quickly looked away.

Anne, on the other hand, pushed forward. “You're the head of the Saints?”

“One and only,” she said, winking. “Don't let the red fool you. I'm all purple.”

He heard V start to go through her introduction and rubbed his eyes. Anne was curious, rightfully so, and he listened as they got into a conversation similar to the one that Pierce had started. It was a strange thing, and he wondered how it would've played out if V had stayed stone cold sober. Either way, he wasn't sure if he should've been present for any of it.

When Pierce handed him another glass full of alcohol he thanked him wholeheartedly.

“No problem. You looked like you needed it.”

“...That obvious?”

“Getting there,” Pierce said, standing close to the table. “You might need more next week when I get those requests forwarded.”

Troy put down his glass and sighed. “Thanks for the warning.”

“It's Thanksgiving. Got to get that shit in early if I want to get it approved. I know how it goes.”

“Yeah, you should,” he said, trying not to think about the float from hell they'd gotten by him last year. “Thanks to you new policies got pushed through. Stricter ones.”

“I thought the older ones had that taken care of!”

“Nope.”

That made Pierce's face fall and Troy felt a bit petty for it, but the paperwork had _flooded_ his office. “Which we'll have to review. And then reapply. Again.”

“Yep. Welcome to bureaucratic hell.”

The next drink he took finished the glass and he found himself itching for something else. A cigarette. He'd tried cutting down again about a week ago, but the urge was back and getting worse. He knew why, but at least it'd be an itch he could scratch.

V's eyes drifted towards him and he held them for a good minute until he realized someone was talking to him. “Sorry, what?”

Anne shifted in her seat so she could face him better. “She won't tell me the answer.”

“To what?” he asked, keeping his attention on Anne.

“To why you keep on putting up with my bullshit,” V answered, her grin taking on an edge. “Thought it was obvious.”

Troy had no choice but to look at her then. “It is. Ultor pays me enough for it.” He pushed his seat back and got up, excusing himself before leaving.

* * *

He made his way through two cigarettes as he leaned against the rail. A cool wind blew through and he ran a finger under his collar to loosen it. The feeling of being suffocated wasn't present anymore, but the hit of nicotine wasn't helping like it should've. It smoothed everything down long enough for a stray thought to get his mind running again, and when he started to light a third cigarette he gave up and stashed it.

Pressing a hand to his eyes, he took in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled. “Get it the fuck together. Christ, it shouldn't be this difficult.”

“Shouldn't be, but it is, right?”

The quiet voice made him hesitate. “Always is.”

He turned and V stood there, rubbing her hands together against the chill. Her smile was shy, but left when he didn't return it. “You going to come back in? Almost thought about sending a search party for you.”

“I'm coming. Just had some bad habits to maintain,” he said, walking over to her.

“Shit. Maybe I could bum one off of you.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “It's not called quitting if you keep on going back to it.”

The shy smile came back, but her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “True. Never did manage to get that part right.”

She shivered and he gestured towards the door. “Come on. It's warmer inside.”

* * *

The music had started, something slow and peaceful and V played with the thin chain of her necklace as she scanned the crowd. “Whoops. Looks like the party's in full swing now. I don't know how you handle it year after year.”

“Could say the same for you,” he threw out, searching the room himself. “You're an old vet by now.”

“Old?” She tried to appear scandalized, but it fell apart fast. “I'm catching up to you, aren't I?”

“Bit by bit. The truth hurts.”

When she continued to stick by him, he let himself look at her again. He was tracing the line of her shoulders to her neck when she noticed, but didn't tell him to fuck off. She waited, watching him, and what he saw there when he finally caught her eye was something he hadn't seen in a while.

Kissing her would've been a mistake, but that didn't stop him from considering it.

“...I owe you a dance.”

She stood up straight. “What?”

He'd been thinking that too, and was surprised he actually got the words out. “A dance.”

Troy held his hand out to her and she stared at it.

“It's tradition. Hate to break it now.”

She pursed her lips, but took his hand anyway, her touch lighter than he ever thought it could be. The care she took didn't fit her at all, and it got under his skin fast. It made him hold her a bit tighter, and he knew she had to notice.

“She seems nice.” He didn't give an answer, and V kept on going. “Kinda quiet when you don't prompt her. Helps you think, eh?”

“Someone told you, didn't they?”

Her eyes left his for a second, but not for long. “Kinzie...found out one day. She wasn't digging on purpose, but brought it up when I asked what was new over here. It wasn't any of my fucking business, but...”

“News travels. Even small news. Don't worry about it.”

The guilt didn't entirely fade. “Sure.”

Her attention stayed on two things while they went around, him, and the crowd. He had a feeling she was trying to find Pierce, but he hadn't seen him or Anne once since they had come back in. It wasn't cause for concern, but it didn't stop V from searching.

“Still, congrats. I mean it.” She gave him a soft smile and it dug at him. “You're not a bad catch, if I might say so myself.”

“For a chain-smoking workaholic, sure,” Troy said, his tone going bitter. “I'm a real prize.”

Her hand left his shoulder to run over the commendations on his coat. “You're a decent guy. That's hard to find, Chief.”

“And you?”

“I'm hot shit, what do you think?” Her lips curved up and he couldn't resist returning it. “Just kidding. That's the obvious answer, right? I don't know. Still trying to figure that bit out.”

“What if I tried to tell you the same?”

“That I was decent? Shh, don't try to say that out loud. I've got a rep to maintain,” she whispered, leaning close.

She lingered and he felt her fingers tap against the back of his hand. He was supposed to step away, but it wasn't easy. Wasn't then, wasn't now.

He took her around, and she played with one of his lapels as they kept on going. Every other turn he caught her perfume – light, her so-called citrus disaster – and he wanted to bury his face in her hair. Old habit. Funny how they kept on falling into them no matter how much distance they tried to maintain.

The dance let her drift close again, and he didn't bother to police the space between them this time. His arm curled around her back instead of remaining on her hip, and she gave him the same look she'd given him by the door.

“ _You should try, you know. To find someone you can actually take out into public and not get crucified over. Might make things easier.”_

“ _I don't want easy. I want-”_

"You know I still-" It stalled in his throat, and he felt her hand start to tighten around his.

There was no avoiding those eyes of hers now. He half expected her to deck him. At least he did until what was there shifted. The affection he caught hurt as much as any punch from her would've.

“Figures,” she murmured as they came to a stop. “We fucked each other up bad, didn't we?”

She pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth and broke away, disappearing into the crowd.


	36. How (not) to stay on task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the real Valentine's Day offering. Something short and fluffy between SR2 and 3!

It was too comfortable. With half of the sheets caught around her, she didn't want to give them up or wake up. But when she rolled to the side she ended up on her back, stranded in the middle of the bed.

That meant that she was very much alone, because the same move the night before would've resulted in Troy stealing half of the covers back before wrapping an arm around her.

V yawned and stretched, pouting. “Damn early risers.”

When her eyes caught the clock, however, she did a double-take. Three in the morning, while still the morning, was a bit outside of his schedule. That got her moving as she rubbed her eyes and stood up. Grabbing one of his T-shirts from the closet, she slipped it over her head as she searched his apartment.

The lights were on in his office, and she gave a sigh of relief. At least he hadn't been called in.

No, but the chief was still in one-hundred percent work mode as he flipped through the papers on his desk, his face drawn as he read every line.

It took two knocks on the doorframe to get him to look up, and a few seconds after that for him to register that she was there. “How long have you been standing there?”

She leaned against the doorway and twirled her hair around her finger. “Five minutes? Not too long, don't worry.”

“Shit.” He put his chin in his hand. “It's way too fucking early, right?”

“Yeah, that's putting it mildly,” she said, walking over to him. “Something couldn't wait?”

“Nah, it's...” The papers fell onto the desk and he eyed them critically. “It's all due later in the week, but you know that feeling when your eyes open and you get it in your mind to check something? I let the damn thought happen, and...yeah.”

“I don't think the coffee hurt either.”

“I get up, I get that. It's not a habit, it's a goddamn necessity.”

A few of the reports stared up at her, and she wondered if she should've been able to see any of these. Nothing critical would be sitting out for someone to stumble on, but she tried not to be too nosy. Even if the one with the Ultor stamp in the upper corner kept on trying to drag her towards it.

She rested her chin on his shoulder. “You're worrying your way to an early grave, babe.”

“Been doing that for a while now.”

Her fingers ran through the hair at his nape, and she pressed a kiss to his neck. “That explains the gray.”

“That's just you,” he said, glancing at her. “Gave me a good headstart there.”

Her arms wrapped around his middle, or as much as they could with the chair in the way. “So, this isn't urgent, right? In need of your immediate attention?”

He lifted his head up from his hand and pushed at a few of the papers. “No. No, it isn't.”

She stood up as he turned his chair around, and when he lightly pulled her forward, she let a mischievous smile cross her face. “Is this?”

“Maybe.” She climbed onto his lap and he touched the sleeve of the shirt she was wearing. “You always go for the old ones.”

“They're comfy. I'd throw on a few of your old button-downs, but those are a lot more fun after I've helped you out of them.”

“True.” One of his hands drifted up her thigh and ducked under the very edge of the shirt, tickling her.

Her lips grazed his as she moved close, but not close enough. “They're also yours. Think that might be the real reason why I keep on stealing them.”

The smile that earned was subtle and wonderful. She shifted as his hands moved along her ribs, and leaned in again to touch him. When he tried to kiss her she pulled back, but not far.

He watched her wet her lips. “Might be?”

“Definitely.”

She was starting to understand why he was fond of this type of office chair. It fit two perfectly. Even when it leaned back, responding to the way she balanced herself to take him in. Move with him.

It was a careful thing, and something they'd both learned to manage.

He held her close as he rocked up, both hands sliding down her back, but she kept herself from kissing him. _Not yet_ , she thought as she drifted out of reach, her head tilting up. His mouth decided to occupy itself with the skin above the collar of her shirt instead, sucking lightly on one of the spots that left her nails digging into her palms.

The shirt bunched around her waist, and she pressed him into the chair. His hands were on her hips as she rose up and down, and she caught his bottom lip between her teeth, running her tongue along it before letting go.

The tease got exactly the response she wanted as she heard his breathing shift, slow and measured, to deep and hurried. It made her thighs tense around him, making him clench his jaw tight to keep from groaning.

So when his fingers found her clit, she swore against his lips, each press roughly close to how she was moving. Her back arched, and both arms wrapped around his shoulders as her eyes slipped shut.

She felt the shirt go up as he used his free hand to pull at it, and almost had half a mind to remove it herself. But that meant she'd have to move, and she wasn't about to do that right now, not with the way his tongue was sliding against hers.

The chair leaned again, tipping as she raised herself higher, before popping back into place. His hands went straight for the armrests as she yelped, and both stayed still for a good minute as the chair remained upright and undisturbed.

Her heart pounded, and her eyes darted between the chair and him. “Maybe that was a bit much.”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Bed?”

She nodded. “Bed.”

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he gathered her up, and the trip to his bedroom wasn't nearly as difficult to navigate.

And once they hit the sheets she made sure to keep him on task. Urgent business was urgent, after all.


	37. Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting back into SR2 with something short and simple since I have a much better idea of what's occurring when. This is pretty damn far on the Ronin questline, but right before Shivington gets burned with the Samedi.

She felt old. Old and worn out, and after getting a good look at herself in the mirror this morning she knew there was no disputing it.

The day after Aisha's funeral had been a blur, and only now had she begun to adjust to being a normal, functioning human being again. Her muscles ached all over, and her head pounded, but after slamming back some painkillers the majority of it had faded.

She'd needed to get out of there, though. Needed some space and air, even if the drop in the temperature had left her rubbing her arms to chase away the chill, jacket or no jacket.

Eating outside hadn't helped with that problem much, but when she put her head down on her arms and closed her eyes it was heaven. Heaven with a side of deep-fried semi-questionable goodness. She could've easily drifted off like that without a care in the world.

It took a few blinks for her to get her mind back in order, and a few more to realize she had an audience. An audience of one, but one curious chief was enough. “That's rude,” she mumbled.

He stood up straighter, but didn't lose the hint of concern that had been present. Dressed down in civvies, he didn't stick out half as much as he did in uniform. “Rude not to want to wake you up?”

“Staring's staring, Troy. I know I look like shit, so please don't rub it in.” She yawned and stretched, slumping forward in her seat when she was done. “Compliments are totally fine, though.”

“Sweet talk?” He raised an eyebrow and canted his head. “Thought that didn't work on you.”

“Depends on who's trying. I'm willing to make exceptions.” She lit a cigarette, her eyes on him the entire time, and waited for him to leave. Once again he didn't. “So...”

“So...?”

“Funny how I'm not the only one with an itch to scratch.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “That's one way to put it, but yeah. Would be today, eh?”

“Would be,” she said, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “You going to sit down, or am I going to die of old age first?”

The quick scan he gave to their surroundings didn't seem to help him relax, but after a few minutes of doing so he took the spot on the opposite side of her. “Haven't been here in months, actually. I've been trying to cut down.”

“Good, because this shit'll kill you.” She popped another fry into her mouth and eyed her cigarette. “This is the surer bet, though.”

“You're telling me,” he said, getting his pack out. It was the same brand, and V hid her smile behind her hand. “Been trying to cut down on those too, but who am I kidding? Trying to stick to five on a Tuesday's bad enough.”

He held the cigarette between his fingers as he started to get his lighter out, but she was one step ahead of him. She tapped hers on the table and raised her eyebrows.

It was close enough for him to take if he'd wanted, but when she flicked it on he leaned forward. It took a couple of tries as they fought the small breeze, but it caught, and as soon as it did he retreated back to his side of the table.

The food had gone cold at that point, and she picked at it idly as they sat there. One of the fries went his way when she offered, and she smirked at the face he made when he ate it.

For a Saints staple, there weren't many of her people around. There were flashes of purple here and there, but none of their attention was on them, and Troy seemed to sit a bit easier for it. To be honest, so did she. He wasn't exactly flashing his blue, but she did not want to step between her more enthusiastic members and him if she didn't have to. She wasn't ready to face the consequences of that just yet.

“I heard about the funeral.”

V took a long drag off of her cigarette, but didn't break eye contact. “He thought he could catch us off-guard. Fucker kinda did. Zipped right through the gate, shot his mouth off and then shot at anything that moved. ...But he got what he deserved. Anyone that came in there with him did.

Troy puffed away at his own cig, keeping his attention to the smoke coming off of hers. “It was him, wasn't it?”

“That called the hit? Yeah. Did that and still tried to beg for his life. Johnny could've killed him five ways to Sunday, but he wasn't feeling generous after that. I think you can understand why.” He slowly nodded and V cocked her head to the side. “You know it's okay to admit that you're glad they're dead from time to time, right? He didn't give a shit who he hurt or had to step over. Probably more people than I'd be able to count.”

His stiff posture was answer enough, but she didn't expect him to admit to any of it. She doubted he ever would. “She deserved better than that.”

“Yeah. She deserved a lot of things.” She tapped the cigarette against the table and sighed. “Too late to go over that now.”

“You ever....” His voice trailed off, but she kept her eyes off to the side. “You know you can call at any time, right?”

“I already call you often enough. Sure you want me to talk your ear off about something other than business?”

“If you want.”

She laughed, if only to shake off the nerves that kicked in. “You're playing with fire, Chief.”

He pursed his lips, but didn't back down. “I figured I'd remind you that there's at least one person in town that doesn't want you dead.”

“...And it'd be you? The Chief of Police? Careful there,” she warned, going back to her cigarette. “I might get the impression that you care.”

“I-” Troy paused, then recovered fast, giving her a measured glance. “Sure. If that's what you want to believe.”

The breath she'd been holding in came out in a cloud. She'd nearly choked on it. “Any reason why you're still hanging around, Officer?”

He got the hint, but the soft look that came with it made her stub out her old cigarette for a new one. “Samedi. Or maybe it's the lack of Samedi. Haven't caught too many on the streets lately, and that's not their usual MO.”

“And?”

“I thought you'd run them off, but now I'm thinking they've found better ways to hide.”

“Motherfuckers,” V muttered. “Thought that break was too good to be true. Any particular places popping up, or do you want me to do my own digging?”

“Your people do get good results, even if they're not always careful about how they get them. Should tell them to watch it, though. Too many close calls happen every day, and I do have a fucking job to do.”

“And you wouldn't hesitate to shove us all into solitary. Yeah, yeah, I got it. No sudden spikes in the ol' Chief's blood pressure.”

The glare lacked bite, but that never stopped him from doing it. If anything, her amusement always made him glare more, and with the way she was grinning his disapproval wasn't surprising at all.

He put his cigarette out and stood up to dust his coat off. “Might want to check a couple of the older neighborhoods. They're out of the way, so the patrols don't hang around as much. You know the ones.”

“Sure do. I'll keep an ear to the ground.”

She watched Troy walk off to his car, both of his hands in his pockets and sat up in her seat.

“Hey!” He turned and she almost lost her nerve, but the expectant look on his face helped her get it back. “You know that phone thing goes both ways, right?”

He gave a short laugh and walked away, shaking his head.


	38. That old place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR2, immediately after Shivington burns. Nice job there, boss.

It didn't take long to catch. One lab went after another, and by the time she saw the smoke almost all of Shivington was burning. She nearly dropped her gun when she caught the full impact of it, the older buildings and garbage fueling the flames, and only ran when the sirens began to move in.

This had been her home once. There was a cruel kind of irony in the fact that her return to it had to end like this.

Her phone shook in her hand as she punched in the numbers and she didn't wait for it to finish dialing to yell at it. “Shaundi! Shaundi, get on the damn phone!” It rang, but eventually went straight to voicemail, and V punched the steering wheel as she took a turn to avoid the cops rushing in.

The next number only took two rings to pick up. _“Boss? What's going on?”_

“Pierce, Shivington's going up, and I want to fix it. How?”

“ _Shivington's what?”_

“It's burning to the fucking ground, because our fucking crew doesn't know when to pull their fucking punches when it comes to meth.”

“ _With meth labs there's no easy way to, but I'll get extra guys out there to get the people out. Any cops there yet?”_

_Too many._ “Yeah. Get them out here fast, hell, have them jack a fire truck to use!” Pierce had to have heard her change in tone, and she quickly corrected it. _“_ I don't care at this rate as long as something's getting done, okay?”

“ _Got it.”_

* * *

The fires burned into the night, refusing to die down even when the firefighters took over the fight. The Saints had to move quick to avoid the sirens, but for every family that they could reach on the sidewalk, there was another that refused to leave. They weren't as receptive.

Their gang had offered protection. This wasn't it, and when V choked on the smoke along with them, she wished it hadn't led to this.

Shaundi hitched a ride back to headquarters in the middle of the night, giving her a call while doing so, and as soon as she walked through the door, V threw questions at her left and right. Pierce cut in when her voice wouldn't stop rising and the two pointed straight at the couch. This wasn't long after she'd inhaled more smoke than was healthy, so the plans -and words - coming out of her weren't exactly rational or helpful.

When the two finally refused to talk until she got at least an hour of sleep in, she knew she wasn't going to win, and tried to at least keep her eyes shut for a while. It didn't go well, even with the extra blanket that Shaundi tossed over her between naps.

When she came by the next day in the afternoon fueled by four shitty hours of sleep and caffeine, most of the old brick buildings were left standing but damaged. Everything had already begun to fall apart, so adding this was almost insult to injury. A few areas were still burning bright, and she watched from a distance as the emergency crews kept on working.

The people left behind were trying to gather up whatever they could. Blackened clothes and items were dusted off as they handed them off, and other places had people sleeping on the stairs leading up. Those were the places with no trace of purple, and she gave them a quick once-over before moving on.

She pushed her sunglasses onto her head and stared at the street signs as she slowly made her way down the sidewalks. Two more turns and she'd be on her old one. She hadn't been avoiding it on purpose before, but before yesterday it'd been far from her mind.

The first step was difficult, but the second easy. They carried her down the worn concrete, and it didn't take long for her to see her building sticking out like a sore thumb.

It'd caught some of the flames from the others, but hadn't caved in or crumbled. The fires had probably been put out early on, and as she slowly approached she wondered if she'd see anyone familiar. If Elle had made her way back there even after skipping town so long ago.

Troy had been the one to keep her informed then. No actual call from Elle or message that she was leaving, just an observation. It'd hurt, but after leaving her behind V had wondered for a long time if she'd deserved it in some way. Living together after college hadn't done either of them any favors, and putting extra distance between them after joining the Saints had been for her safety more than anything. It'd made sense at the time.

But what did she know? She'd practically lied to Elle about what she would be doing and where she was going, and that was before asking an undercover cop to keep an eye on her. The same cop that she had been all too glad to get into her bed. Had actively enjoyed _having_ in said bed. After that it'd been safe to say that her judgment had been well and truly screwed.

_And you're still talking to him now. Don't forget that,_ she thought, chiding herself. _Still chatting him up and making eyes at him like an idiot. Fucking hell._

She wasn't being careful at all, and neither was he. Talking and sharing lighters was too normal. Joking was too normal. Too close to shit that she'd tried to bury and failed. Maybe that was why it'd been so easy to slip back into it. This thing.

“And you would think about it now,” V mumbled. “Staring at your old burnt out place that he helped you move out of, while he's probably off cursing your name and drowning in bullshit and news reports. Great.” It was almost the cherry on the sundae, and she tried not to laugh as she stared up at her floor.

_Second floor up, third door down. Mind the creak in the floor, because that goes straight to Elle's ears._

No one was standing outside or by the door, so she walked right up to it and tried the handle. It took some effort, but it gave, and she blinked as she took in the hazy landing. Some letters were left behind in the mailboxes to the right of the stairs, and she checked out the names by each one.

Elle's wasn't there, but her curiosity had taken her this far. What was a few more steps?

The wood held firm beneath her feet, and she started her slow climb up. The wallpaper which had been a dull brown had been replaced with an equally dull burgundy – quite the feat – and the once empty halls were now covered with pictures and small paintings.

She touched the edge of one, and wiped the glass clean with her hand. Flowers stared back at her, and she raised an eyebrow before swiping the ashes off on her jeans. Another had dogs, and once she was up on her floor, she found another with fruit. It was all generic stuff you'd get from the local stores, but a hell of a lot more homey than it used to be.

The air wasn't as good up on her floor, but it saved her from the mess that had hit further up. She pulled open any windows she could reach and gulped down the fresh air that waited outside. After the first two she picked up a discarded newspaper and waved it in front of her face. It didn't help, and she took a peek at the headline on the front.

She couldn't believe her eyes. _Jesus, the jail break?_

Sure enough, the front page story was all about her and Carlos, and she chuckled as she zipped through the words going over their campaign to get the hell out. Rolling it up tight, she held onto it as she kept on looking around, and made a mental note to tease Carlos about it later.

The first door on her left was falling off of its hinges. Trash littered the inside of it and she moved on to the next. The tarnished numbers hadn't changed much since the day she left, and she ran her fingers over them before turning her attention towards the door. It wasn't damaged, but it was open.

“Hello?” She nudged the door open further, and didn't hear anyone call back. The same creak was there, however, and it made her hair stand on end when she put pressure on it. “Guess no one's home after all.”

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she wandered inside.

The carpet had seen better days, and even back then the olive green shade had been more of an eyesore than anything else. She skirted the odd stains as she made her way into the main area, and whistled when she saw scattered fast food bags and the remains of a three-legged table. A ratty mattress laid off to the side along with a few blankets, and when she kicked the blanket aside she found scattered receipts and more newspapers.

Everything was bare-bones, and not even the old, broken couch that Elle had bummed off of her brother had made it.

After opening one of the two windows to air everything out, she went for the rooms. Elle's room was a squatter's paradise. As the largest of them all it had the most space, and V was amazed to see an old bed and sheets shoved into one of the corners. A magazine with Dane Vogel's face stared up at her, and she resisted the urge to grind her heel into it as she left.

The door to her room was jammed, and she was in the process of throwing her back into it when her phone rang. She held the cell between her head and her shoulder, and prayed the door would give. “Yo!”

“ _Busy?”_ Johnny asked. _“Or working on some heavy lifting?”_

“Not exactly? Shit!” The door shifted, and the phone fell as she tried to stay upright. It wasn't open, but the space was more than enough to accommodate her. “Okay, maybe more than I expected to,” she replied after picking her phone back up. “It's been an interesting couple of days.”

“ _You're still there?”_

“Yeah. I wanted to see how bad it was during the day, and it's pretty fucking bad, man. Even worse up close.”

“ _Makes sense. The place was fucking glowing, and they're saying it's still burning. Might be for a while.”_ She sighed and she heard him shift the phone around on the other end. _“Want me to come get you?”_

There was no reason for him to, but maybe that was why she did. “Eh, why not? I've got an old friend of sorts to show off, so you might as well drop by.”

She rattled off the address – floor and number included – and proceeded to fit herself into her old space.

That was where Johnny found her later, his voice the only sound carrying through the apartment. She'd removed the random crap that had piled up behind the door, so when he pushed it open he didn't even have a quarter of the difficulty she had with it. “V?”

She didn't even glance up from her spot on the blue and yellow couch. It was ugly enough to be seen from orbit and super comfortable to lie on. “Hey. Did you take your time driving here?”

“No, but I'm not the one taking a fucking nap.” Gat walked over and kicked the old thing, sending a cloud of dust into the air. “Your friend's looking worn out.”

She tried not to breathe any of it in, but sneezed into the sleeve of her leather jacket. “Bite me. It's not the damn couch. I used to live here.”

“...Here?” He took a quick look around the cluttered room and raised an eyebrow. “This is it? No fucking way.”

“Yes, way. Glamorous, isn't it?” She walked over to the jammed window and tried to open it again. It only served to strain her already sore muscles. “This was my little home away from home. ...Though second home might be more accurate, if we're counting the other apartment. That was some luxury living.”

“I don't think we're remembering the same place.” When she let go, Johnny nudged her aside to give it a shot. It took only a single try for him to get it to snap open. “After this, though, I can see how you'd think that.”

“Between this and the street, I'd take it every time. After school this was what I had, and I practically kissed Elle when she offered to let me stay.”

“School?”

“Yeah, uh, college.”

She felt awkward, but shook it off. It was Johnny. Her college days had been stupid, but there was no reason to keep it to herself.

“I tooled around for a semester and failed out pretty spectacularly. My friend, Elle...helped. If they'd had a dual major in barhopping and clubbing I'd have passed with flying colors. Instead I got myself wasted and pushed my numbers as close to zero as possible. It was such a waste of time and money, and I knew that the minute that happened my family was going to boot my ass out, so I didn't even bother going back home.”

“So you went here? Huh. Still one hell of a pick.”

“Elle's boyfriend was able to rent it, so they let me dig out one of the extra rooms on their floor. God, the only reason we were ever able to get anywhere was because of me. I had to carve actual paths through the crap that kept on piling up. It was a fucking dump, but it was our dump.”

Was. Her room didn't have a shred of her left in it, and hadn't for years. The surge of sentimental feelings related to it surprised her, and knew it had to show, but home was home. That stuck with you no matter how many years ticked by.

“It's still weird to be here though.” She chewed on her lip and fidgeted in place, rocking back and forth on her heels. “To be able to stand in this place and just...see where everything used to be, you know?”

He gave her a single nod, and turned away. “Yeah.”

“Another time, another place.” _Another me._ “Time flies, eh?”

Johnny gave her a look, then gestured towards the door, “Let's get the fuck out of here. This place is depressing as shit, and you don't look like you want to hang around much longer either.”

“Is it that obvious? Fine, but only if you drag me somewhere nice.”

“You don't get to be picky when you're not buying.”

Her mouth curved up. “I'm not?”

“Nah, not this time. You've helped my ass get wasted enough times. Maybe I'll help you out for once.”

V almost giggled, and got rid of that urge fast. Smoke inhalation. That had to be the cause. “Damn, I think I'm feeling faint.”

She held the back of her hand to her forehead, and Gat started pushing her towards the exit. “Someone's gotta keep you from tripping over shit and winding up in the damn hospital. Last time was the television, and I'm not cleaning up after your ass again. I ain't your fucking maid.”

“Oh, fuck off. I wasn't that bad,” she whined, slapping at him. “You could still turn it on and everything.”

“No, you were worse.”

“Ugh. Asshole.”

He ruffled her hair, and she came to a dead stop at the top of the stairs. Halfway down he glanced up. “Yo, you coming?”

Her face was definitely red, and she missed her hat with a vengeance. “Yeah, yeah, I'm coming.”


	39. Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR2 again, bit further down the Samedi and Brotherhood questlines, but not too far. That's more of a staging point, though. Enjoy.

_I've had a shit week,_ V typed into her phone. _A shit couple of weeks, preceded by a shit month, preceded by a handful of shitty years. Go ahead and ignore this, but I'm getting a fucking drink at the place down the street from my place and if you want one too it'll be my treat._

It was a shot in the dark, but she didn't care, even if a lecture came with it.

After a few days of recovering from being higher than the Empire State Building and having that spill over into the shit with the Brotherhood, she needed to clear her head. Or at least go back to the few drugs she'd been familiar with. Good old booze and nicotine.

She lit a cigarette at the bar, and tried not to recall the way things had swum in her vision. The small elongated space that kept on stretching and snapping back. How Sunshine had sharpened his machete and become this _thing_ that the General kept at bay. This creature worth fearing.

It had been too fucking close. It had been their game to win with her head that close to being served up pretty for the General, but she'd slithered out of it somehow. Got her ass out of that rolling hotbox, and tripped her way back to headquarters where only Johnny had been able to get her still long enough to begin the process of sleeping it off.

She should've waited longer before meeting Carlos after that. Put herself in a better state of mind. It'd felt good at the time to imagine Maero's reaction, but after? It'd left her unsatisfied, Carlos conflicted, and no closer to figuring out any of their next moves.

Carlos had sworn up and down that he would pick it up from there, that he could do this, but...some part of her still wasn't sure that he should. That any of this was worth getting his hands dirty for.

There was no easy answer to that.

So, she decided to leave it for tomorrow. With that waiting for her, drinking herself stupid seemed like an excellent option. Inviting Troy, not so much, but she'd wanted to. Wanted him to call her an idiot in person instead of waiting for him to toss it out casually over their next clandestine call.

And it didn't take five shots of their nastiest stuff for her to admit that. No, it took three cigarettes and five attempts at the same message on her phone before she said, “Fuck it” and sent what she had. He hadn't responded and she didn't expect him to respond, but when she finished downing her second shot she felt her phone vibrate.

_Sure you should be drinking right now?_

_After a shitstorm like before? No,_ she shot back, _but it seems to be working okay so far._

She set her glass down and waited for his response. It didn't take long. _Anything's a great idea once the third shot's down._

Her eyes narrowed, but she groaned when she realized exactly what he was doing over text. He would. Oh, he would. History could back her up on this and then some. _If you've got any better ideas I'll at least try to hear you out._

_Sure about that?_

“Yeah, because I've been fucking full of them,” V muttered. _Go ahead and hit me._

_Head outside in ten?_

Part of her third shot nearly went all over the bar. The bartender gave her a look, but she waved him off and sent a quick reply. The rest of the shot went down for luck, and she tried not to think too much after that.

To his credit, Troy didn't leave her fidgeting outside of the bar for long. Only the dedicated smokers hung around the outside to fight with the freak cold front, so she picked a spot under a nearby street lamp and tried not to give in to the urge to light up herself. She rubbed her hands together to keep the weather from getting to her, and nearly bumped into him when she refused to stop pacing.

“Geez, way to announce yourself,” she threw out, shoving her hands into her pockets.

He checked her over, and she knew she wasn't wearing the right things. Just a jacket and jeans, but at least it wasn't blazing red or purple. “Cold?”

She eyed his navy blue scarf with envy. “No.”

He was already starting to unwrap it from around his neck, and she froze as he tossed it around hers without a thought, giving one of the ends a simple flip over her shoulder. “Better?”

Her pinched face wasn't going to help her lie this time. “A bit.”

“Good,” he said, trying not to smile. “Let me walk you home.”

“Ah. The drinking binge is over?”

“Yep.”

“Fine,” she said, sighing dramatically before stepping around him. “Way to kill the party.”

“Isn't that what I do?” he joked. “Bring it down?”

“I thought you 'kept it reasonable'. Killing it seems to be a hell of a lot more your thing now, what with the colors you're flying.”

He let her keep the lead so she didn't get to see his face, but she knew he caught the jab. His change in tone almost made her regret it. “There are easier ways to say I have a stick up my ass.”

“Sure, Chief. All work, no play. Business as usual. I'm sure you've heard it all by now.” V turned on her heel to keep an eye on him, and the flat look he gave her wasn't surprising. “Unless you've got a few new ones. I'd love to hear them.”

“So you don't want to talk about it.” That wiped the grin off of her face. “Guess not.”

“I barely remember half of it, but I can improvise. Possibly tell you what happened when I thought it'd be a better idea to hijack a moped than an actual four-door car.”

“Was it the General?”

She turned around and pulled the scarf closer to her. “Might've been. White suit, pimped out limo? The guy must live and breathe loa dust twenty-four seven, because I don't even think sixty percent of the air in there was oxygen.”

“They dragged you in there off of the street?”

“Yeah, simple as that. Kind of embarrassing, but I'm not feeling too broken up about it. Guys tried to put a bullet in my head and failed. How the hell do you miss that when I'm falling over in my seat?” she snickered.

“You're lucky.”

She turned back to Troy and didn't miss the way his jaw was clenched. “Lucky, or just some dumbass who keeps on failing to get caught?” The comment didn't get a response. “You can say both any time now.”

“Why? You keep on pulling off the same dumb shit over and over again, so I don't know why I should bother.”

“Ouch, Troy. Trying to make that hurt?”

“No.” He pursed his lips and looked away. “Just wondering how things are going to be spun this time. How the leader of the Saints is down to her fourth or fifth life out of nine, and the media's going to have a heyday.”

“That many? That's pretty fucking generous.”

“Well, I am being generous.”

“Because...?”

“I've seen over a dozen headlines and fielded over a dozen questions about whether you're dead, alive, or faking it. It's getting old.”

She didn't break her stride as she dodged a couple scattered people on the sidewalk. “What is? Wondering?”

“Something like that.”

“You want me to send a note next time? Have someone send it with a lovely fruit basket?”

“And not a singing telegram?” He was starting to walk faster and she sped up to stay ahead. “Jesus, V. I don't get why you have to fucking kid around like that.”

“Why not? I'm not dead, just pissed off. No real reason for you to be, though.”

He frowned. “No?”

“Why? You don't owe me anything.”

“No.” He stopped and she was impressed. Not a single flinch. “I don't.”

“So, why?”

“Sometimes I don't know,” he admitted. “Others, it's a bit more straightforward. Old friends are friends even if a few of them would rather point a gun at my head than talk.”

“Old friends?”

“Yeah, friends.”

The word stung, and she wasn't sure what to do with the feelings behind it. “Even Gat?”

“Even Gat.” The corner of his mouth curved up. “Don't tell him that, though. I don't think he'd appreciate the sentiment.”

“You've got some fucking nerve, you know that?”

“To say that out loud? Or to say that to you?” She didn't answer, and he dropped his eyes. “I know. Boy, do I fucking know.”

“And yet you still walked up to me. Talked to me. Called me,” she stated, walking closer with each word. “I shouldn't trust half the shit coming out of your mouth, but here we are. Playing at...whatever the hell this is.”

“Now you see my problem?” He looked up, and she tried not to turn away.

“This?”

“No, more like-”

“Or me?” He shut his mouth and her nails went into her palms. “Ooh, it would be me, wouldn't it?”

“Who should be holding the gun to my head? Yeah, you should.” He stepped even closer and brushed her hair aside, but most of it fell back into place. “For someone who's earned the chance and then some I'm surprised you haven't taken it.”

Comebacks ran through her head, some angry, a whole hell of a lot of them bitter, but she couldn't say them out loud. Tried, but couldn't get any of the words out of her mouth. “Are you telling me that you wanted me to?”

If she hadn't been so close she doubted she would've even heard him. “No. ...But I wouldn't have blamed you.”

“Well, shit. Guess I fucked up there,” she spat. “Been doing a lot of that lately.”

“Everyone does. They don't always own up to it, though.”

She turned on her heel and left, trying to ignore the way the light caught his eyes. It didn't take long for him to catch up, however, his strides working to match hers.

His height kept him in line with her, so her little burst of speed did jack and shit to separate them. She kept it up for a good five minutes before letting her pettiness fizzle out. What replaced it wasn't as straightforward and it left her sounding almost as unsure as she felt.

“I'm trying.” She cleared her throat and tried to pull some of that bitterness back. “It helps if you don't make a shit-ton of mistakes to begin with.”

“Sure, but that's what we do. Make mistakes and try to fix them.”

V glanced at him. “We?”

“We.”

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes, but didn't miss the pang that came with that word.

* * *

When her apartment came into view, she wasn't sure what to say.

This wasn't hanging up, her making an ass of herself on TV, or the end of some accidental meeting. This was on her, and he hadn't left yet. Sure he could've driven her. Just picked her up and dropped her off, but he didn't.

He'd wanted to talk, just as much as her, and when she'd ripped part of the band aid off he'd been unprepared for it, but remained. Running was easy, she'd tried, but this wasn't supposed to be.

But maybe that was why he'd stayed after all. Maybe he was sick of running too.

“Want to come in? I can make you some coffee.” It wasn't a loaded question. Or maybe it was.

He stared at her, studying her closely, but didn't brush her off. Her confusion must've shown, because he shifted on his feet so that his attention was more on the door than her. “You actually get a machine that works?”

“Yep. It was high on the priority list.”

“And it's not strong enough to eat the paint off of a car?”

She crossed her arms. “Shit, Chief, thought that was the only way you took it.”

“Only on Mondays, but you can only do so much for those.” He smiled and gestured towards her place. “Ladies first, then.”

She wasn't a lady. Never had been, never would be. The way her heartbeat picked up at the idea of him walking across that threshold with her told her as much, and she fished out her keys without a word.

The shitty lock resisted more than usual, as if sensing her intent, and once they were inside she couldn't force it back into place fast enough. When he heard it engage he turned to her with a question, something about her place, no doubt. Small talk. To help put her at ease.

That was him, cautious, careful, and this was her, she noted, shoving him against the wall. Jumping in blindly without a single look back.

When she kissed him she didn't temper it. Her chapped lips pressed against his hard enough to sting, and his hands clamped down around her arms to keep her in place. It'd been years since she'd been this close to him, but she still remembered the smell of his cologne. Of his fucking cigarettes. It surrounded her, like him, and she didn't want to withdraw.

She was breathing hard when they came up for air, and Troy waited only a beat before kissing her back. It didn't have any of the force hers did, but it didn't need to. His tongue slid along her lips then between them, and she sighed as his fingers ducked under her jacket. They were warm on her back as they trailed along and under her shirt, making her shiver.

His coat and gloves were tugged off one by one, leaving a pile on the floor as she yanked his shirt up and over his head. Riding a desk had made him soft, taking away some of the edge that had kept her ass alive on more than one occasion, and gray was starting to touch his temples. The five year stretch had changed many things, but it hit her more then. That separation between what she knew and what she knew now.

The tattoo on his forearm was still there, however. Her hand ran down it, taking in its fading lines, and the corner of her mouth turned up. “Some things never change, eh?”

He ran a thumb over her cheek, the soft touch almost delicate. “Guess not.”

She hooked his beltloops and pulled him away from the wall, nearly stumbling over her coffee table when her lips refused to leave his. She forced him down onto the couch, straddling his hips as she loosened the scarf, and soon her jacket and shirt joined his. She didn't even bother to unclasp her bra; just pulled it up and threw it somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, because with his hands all over her, all she wanted in that moment was to get rid of it.

He traced the edges of scars he was unfamiliar with, barely ghosting over them, and his eyes flicked towards hers when he touched part of one on her lower back.

V lifted her arm and showed him one that ran along her ribs. “That's a fun one too.”

It almost tickled when he followed her, and she skirted another on the back of her upper arm. Similar spots were scattered all over her body, and she helped him find them as he kept searching, moving his hands with hers.

Her throat grew dry as he lingered, but he didn't ask. Only handled her gently until her patience ran out, cutting off his exploration with a kiss.

“Don't.” Her voice was rough, and caught in her throat at the fond look in his eyes. “Not now.”

He dragged her jeans down as she hovered over him, and when they hit the floor she went for his belt, making short work of it in spite of the way his mouth teased at her. His tongue threw her balance off, however, and when he moved her underwear to the side she knew she wouldn't be able to regain it.

She tugged hard at his hair, but each motion only made his fingers go deeper. His palm rubbed against her when his thumb wasn't, slow and steady, and she rocked with him until she could hear nothing but her heart pounding in her ears. The same maddening motion, over and over left her shaking in his lap, and she pulled away to shove his pants down his hips. He wasn't the only one that could tease, and she made sure to remind him of that.

He pulled her back up once his grip on her arms began to waver, and both fumbled at the condom he'd stolen from her pocket. Then eased him inside her, even though she knew she was more than ready.

It wasn't exactly the same after so long, but when he touched her – his hips moving in time with hers – it didn't have to be. And when her name slipped out between heavy breaths she felt it. Tried her hardest not to, but did. She kissed him harder after that. Rode him until the hurt faded to a dull ache.

“You shouldn't have followed me,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. “Shouldn't have.”

“Too late for any of that, eh?”

He pushed her back onto the cushions and she didn't have a chance to give him an answer.

* * *

He didn't follow her into the shower.

She knew that expression. He'd wanted space to think, and with the way her head was spinning she'd wanted some too. It wasn't long. Just enough to ease some of the tension settling in her body.

V opened the door and didn't hear a thing. Only the twisting of the handle and the creak of the hinges.

She padded across the empty bedroom to the living room, dripping everywhere, and didn't think about the water soaking into the carpet. Only stood there long enough to get a chill, then locked the door tight.


	40. Suggestion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SR1 time! It's been a while, and I wanted to go for something a bit more lighthearted. Also, lucky number 40! Here's hoping there will be many more.
> 
> I've been off and on editing this for a bit, but hopefully this is the last time? *crosses fingers*

“You both busy?”

Judging by the papers scattered on Dex's desk they were, but Troy waved her inside. “No more than usual. What's happening?”

“Small stuff, but there were a few dealers trying to see if they could work with the Carnales, and nothing's a bigger giveaway than red on a corner that's supposed to be purple.”

Dex continued to keep his eyes on his notes and chuckled. “Someone should talk to you, then.”

“I'm working on it,” she said, holding her hands up. “Red's an awesome color, so sue me.”

“But the point of us flying purple is to make it easy to spot,” Troy noted. “I'm not seeing much.”

“It's not my fault you're not looking in the right places,” she teased. “Anyway, now that I'm here I've got something I've been meaning to bug you about.”

“Shoot.”

“You owe me coffee.”

He appeared surprised, but gave her the floor. “I owe you work. That's what you mean, right?”

“No, you owe me coffee,” she insisted. “Way to blow me off, by the way. Got my hopes up and everything.”

Troy coughed on the smoke he was exhaling and Dex's eyebrows went up. “Coffee.”

“Small coffee, plenty of cream. Sugar's optional.” He blinked at her and she folded her arms as she rocked back and forth on her feet. “Unless you'd like me to make that a latte.”

Dex shook his head as he went back to the plans sitting in front of him, but the glare she got from Troy had something extra to it. She had to lower her eyes to examine her chipped purple polish, because the longer he held it the warmer her cheeks grew.

“Huh, coffee caddy it is. Here I was thinking of having you check out this new import the Rollerz were trying to bring in. I could easily pass it on-”

Her head shot up and she focused right in on the paper dangling from his hand. She reached for it, but he jerked it away.

“Hey, this is no latte.”

She caught a few of the specs he'd scrawled down and liked it. Of course, being this close to him was something else she liked, but that wasn't something she could admit to here, at least not with their current company. “I could waive it.”

“Waive it instead of making it an I.O.U.?”

“Sure.”

“For this hot little number? Gotta do better than that, V, because Dee's a call away.”

She scowled, but held her hand out. “Fine. Skip the damn coffee. ...And the beer from the last barbeque. That was more Johnny's fault than yours, anyway.”

He let her grab it, but didn't let go. “Try to bring it back in one piece, eh?” It slipped out of his grip and she flashed him the finger. “You too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, ducking her head under her hat.

* * *

Samson gave the car an approving glance when she drove up, and she lowered her window to bat her eyes at him. “Hey, stranger. Hope you don't mind me stopping by.”

“With a car like that? Any time.”

“Troy here yet? I gave him a call on the way over, and he told me to bring it to you.”

“Not yet, but give it five. He'll be by.”

It took more than five, but soon enough she heard the familiar sound of his Zircon pulling up. She got out of the car and wandered over to his side with more than a little swing to her step. The window inched down almost painfully slow, but V didn't budge. “Took your sweet time, didn't you?”

“Were you waiting long?”

“No, but you can't leave a car like this alone with me. Might want to keep it.”

“And what? Never have it leave your garage?” he joked, staring up at her.

She scowled. “Low blow, man. Low. I treated this thing like gold.”

“We'll see. I'm not smelling exhaust, burnt rubber, or smoke, so you might be in luck.”

Giving him space to get out, she walked back over to the car and threw her arm out dramatically. “Voila.”

He actually looked impressed. “Shit, that's in one solid piece.”

“Told you.” She grinned and Troy took a long drag off of his cigarette as he examined the car. “There's sort of a scuff on the other side, but that's minor.”

“Sort of?”

“Just a little trading of paint.” V waved it off, and he turned his skeptical look on her. “Skimmed the surface. I couldn't even feel it.”

That expression usually had her swearing up a storm as she tried to recover, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. “Little love tap. Right.”

She shrugged. “That's Stilwater for you.”

“Guess I owe you a coffee then. Or was that a latte?”

His slow smile had her struggling to keep her face neutral. “Coffee works.” She slipped fast, however. “As long as you remember to bring it this time.”

The small shrug he gave made her roll her eyes as she walked off, but the warm feeling in her chest didn't fade one bit.

* * *

The loud knocking jolted her awake, and she groped for a gun until she realized what was happening. Sleeping on the couch worked, but always left her disoriented enough to want to roll off of it onto the floor.

Rubbing her eyes, she listened to the knocking again, and shook her head as she got to her feet. It was late for him, but she wasn't going to complain.

And when she swung the door open to see Troy holding up an extra coffee, she had to keep from jumping on him. Burns were not a proper thank you, especially since she'd already given him the okay to forget about it.

“Oh, you're amazing.” There was no getting rid of her grin as she took it from him, and tried it. Coffee was usually varied degrees of alright with her, but when this hit she had to do a double-take. “...Wow. That's actually pretty damn good.”

“It's from a place over in the downtown area. They know their stuff, and don't charge an arm and a leg for it.”

“I might have to check it out sometime. Or hell, maybe you could take me.”

“I could,” he said with a smile. “Wouldn't be too much trouble either.”

She felt her grin going sappy and quickly reeled it in. “Cool. Want to come in?”

The inviting tone she used was nowhere near the casual one she meant, but he took it in stride. “Sure.”

Once the door was locked she set about clearing a better space on the table by the kitchen. She'd cleaned her gun earlier, but hadn't bothered to put it away yet, something she set about doing now as quickly as possible. “Sorry about all this crap. It was a busy day and I let myself be lazy.”

He set their cups down and pulled out a chair while she did one last check on her handgun. “Things come up. It's not bad.”

“Shit, compared to my old place this is a palace. I felt like I was making my way through an obstacle course.”

“It definitely left an impression,” he said, watching her put the cleaning kit away. “Who else runs a gauntlet just to get from the living room to the kitchen? I almost fell a few times when we were trying to get your bags out and that was on the way to the exit. It looked clear.”

“Almost? Tell me I'm wrong, but I'm pretty damn sure I remember finding you holding onto the wall for dear life because you slipped on something.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I didn't hit the floor, so it didn't count.”

“Uh huh. Everyone has their moments. It's okay to admit it, Troy.”

His muttered response was lost in his coffee, and V snickered as she stuck her gun in the back of her shorts. The table was clear enough for her to sit down, but the extra trash wasn't sitting right with her at the moment. She gathered it all up in a huff, and was tempted to ball it up and pitch it towards the trash can.

“Hey, V?”

She had been reaching across the table to check the old newspaper sitting on it, and turned. Elbow plus coffee meant disaster, and with her as the catalyst she shouldn't have been surprised. When it got on Troy, however, she was absolutely mortified.

He jumped up before the rest could get him, and she dropped everything in her arms to help. “Oh, fuck! Jesus, you okay?”

“Yeah, just...” He wrinkled his nose and sighed. “Just my luck.”

“You mean my shitty luck,” she said, hunting down a towel in the kitchen. She pressed it against his leg and he tried to brush her off, but she didn't let go. “Dammit. I would.”

When it didn't seem like he was going to get any drier she sopped up what was on the table and the floor, and tossed the dirty towel into her kitchen sink with a curse. With nowhere else to run to, she wandered back to Troy, and tried not to dwell on the fact that her face had to be giving a fire truck a run for its money.

“Guess you might as well take your pants off.” She cleared her throat and gestured towards his soaked jeans. “They're dirty and sitting around in wet denim's a pain in the ass, so...”

He tilted his head to the side and stared at her.

“...What?”

* * *

It'd merely been a suggestion, but it didn't take long for it to take on another meaning. One that had her helping as he undid the button and she lowered the zipper.

It was his hand that guided hers over him, however, and his that pulled her shirt over her head when she wasn't sucking hard on his neck. His lead that left her shorts on the floor by his clothes as he walked her back, his eyes just as intent on her as hers were on him.

She almost couldn't believe it, but there was no denying the firm press of his fingers as he helped her turn around, and the way his goatee tickled when it grazed her skin. And when she braced herself on the couch she gave up all pretense of pretending. Just angled her hips just so, and focused on thoroughly enjoying the ride.

“You know,” he breathed, kissing down the back of her neck, “there's nothing wrong with asking. Thought you had that down after the first time.”

“Troy, I asked you to take your pants off. This extra little bit is all on you. I had innocent intentions.” He pulled her hips back against his and she dug her nails into the couch cushions. “Fuck. Mostly.”

“Not buying it.”

She bit down on the moan in the back of her throat, and tried not to focus on the way he was moving in and out of her as she knelt on the cushions in front of him. That warm, deep slide that had her back to his chest as he gasped with her.

“Nope. Not fessing up to that one. You're going to have to try harder than that, chief.”

“Christ, you're stubborn as a goddamn mule,” he groaned.

She pushed back against him harder, and he returned the motion, making her gasp sharply as the hand on her hip kept her close. “Jerk. Fucking jerk.”

He chuckled. “Me? Yeah, you're probably right. Should've gone for the bed. Could've fucked you against the headboard.”

“Could've?” she asked, her breath short as he kept on thrusting into her.

“Would've.”

She pulled his hand off of her hip and pushed it between her legs, her fingers splayed over his. The first hint of pressure drew a shaky moan from her and she felt him grip her other wrist tight.

“Like this?” he asked, pressing down with her.

It was such an odd combination of gentle and sure that it took a few minutes for her to nod in agreement. He buried his face in her hair as she ran her fingers over his, and she couldn't help but watch as they moved over her skin. When he licked his fingers and slid them over her clit she didn't even bother to guide him. Only steadied herself against the couch as she threatened to chew a hole in her lip.

That's when the buzzer went off.

Her arms gave, sending them both crashing into the cushions. His eyes went to the door then her, and they exchanged an anxious look. The buzzer was rarely used. Johnny and Troy typically went right by it, opting to knock only. It was Dex's thing, and that fact made her stomach drop.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she cursed, breaking away from him to yank her clothes on. Her shirt went on inside out before she wrenched it off and put it on right, and she ran by her underwear three times before she was able to find them.

“Whoa, wait a sec.” Troy caught her once she stopped hopping around with one leg in her shorts, and cupped her face. “You're fine. Just check it out and we'll handle it, okay? Relax and breathe.”

“...Zen. Nothing but zen. Got it.” She took in a couple of breaths, and nodded. “Should probably get your pants on before he steps in, though.”

“You think?” he asked, sounding exasperated. He kissed her and dragged his jeans up, his eyes darting back to the door when the buzzer went off again. “Going to get that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She lit a cigarette as he pulled his undershirt and overshirt back on, and when he flashed her the okay she checked the door before opening it up. “Yo. What's up?”

Dex gave her a quick once-over, giving off nothing but a casual calm. It was something she was desperately lacking, since her face was still flushed, and the messy ponytail she'd forced her hair into was in danger of falling out, but she hoped she'd pass. God, she hoped she'd pass.

“Hey, how's it going? I wanted to go over a couple of things with the Carnales. It's taken most of the day to pin them down, but I think we've got something good. ...Looks like Troy beat me to the punch, though.”

“It's unrelated.” Troy leaned against her small dining room table and crossed his arms. “Had some business to wrap up. You know how it is.”

“I might,” Dex said, glancing between the two.

“Though if coffee's on the table, you might want to give her some space.”

“So, Dex,” she said, ignoring Troy completely. “What's going on?”

Dex took his time responding, to the point that V wondered if she was going to literally burn through an entire cigarette in front of him. “A lot.”

“Well, talk to me,” she replied, as she gestured for him to come inside. “I'm not going anywhere.”

He thought it over and she chanced a look back at Troy as she stepped back from the door. His face was a blank slate, but nothing about his posture suggested he was relaxed.

Dex, however, had started to, and she almost breathed a sigh of relief when he gave her a small smile. “This'll be quick, so don't worry about it. The Carnales took a big risk coming into our territory. Hell, they even picked a time when we were celebrating, when they knew we'd be off our game. I want to return the favor.”

Her cigarette almost fell out of her mouth. “You want to hit the mansion?”

“Not yet, but that's definitely on the table if Angelo doesn't fuck things up further with the Colombians and have them waste his ass first. But I've got a list of places that might speed things along.”

“Shit, this sounds like actual work.”

“And you're complaining now?”

“Hell no,” she said, shaking her head. “Just give me a time and a place, and I'll work on putting foot to ass, asap.”

“Thought you'd like that. Head by the church tomorrow at a decent time and we'll finish working on it.”

He nodded to both and left, the abrupt cut off to his visit leaving V confused as she waited for him to disappear from sight. When he finally did, she closed the door behind her and gave Troy a sheepish look. “That was quick. ...And not at all awkward.”

Troy didn't smile back at her, but it didn't take long for him to drop the severe expression he was wearing. “Nope. Hey, V?” She raised an eyebrow and he appeared almost guilty. “I think we should call a raincheck on this. It's a little too hot right now.”

“After that, I don't blame you,” she said as she tugged at the collar of her T-shirt. “God, for about five minutes there I thought I was under a microscope.”

“Only five?”

“Fine, the whole time, but you weren't the one trying to hide how bad your sex hair was. You look like you just stepped out of the damn shower.”

“...It's not that bad.”

"Liar." She pulled the rest of her hairtie out, and fluffed her hair into a defiant mess. By the time she was done, they were both grinning like idiots. “This is pretty bad.”

His eyes moved over her as he pushed away from the table to come closer, and she didn't stop him when he plucked the cigarette right out of her mouth. “Obvious isn't helping us here, eh? I'll be better with it next time.”

“What if I don't-” Her brain caught up with what he said, and she tried not to watch the way he handled her cigarette. “Next time?”

“Raincheck, right?” He took a long drag, and let the smoke out slowly. “Thought that was how they worked.”

He kissed her before she could come up with something snappy, his tongue deepening it fast. They both minded the cigarette in his other hand, but that didn't stop him from tangling his free one in her hair. He pulled her head back just enough to kiss the strip of skin below her ear, and she tried not to buckle in his arms.

“Kind of, but they can be a pain in the ass to collect on,” she sighed, seconds away from ripping his clothes off again. “Sure you want to save that for later?”

She stroked him through his jeans, and his sharp inhale made her nip at his jaw until he started to pull away. “Yeah, I'm sure. Don't think I'd be able to leave if I didn't.”

V pouted. “Damn. Almost.”

“Almost.” His thumb grazed her bottom lip as he stepped back. “Catch you tomorrow at the church?”

“Bright and early?”

“Bright and early.”

“Fine. Oh, and Troy?” He paused at the door, his hand on the handle. “I'll get the coffee this time.”


	41. Worst case scenario - 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the first part established way, way back. Still in the timeline between SR2 and 3.
> 
> To sum up: Troy's found in the trunk of V's car. He obviously doesn't belong there, and now she wants to know how and why he ended up there to begin with.

“Evening.”

It had been a while since V had seen Gryphon's secretary. The young woman held herself in the same prim, nervous manner she'd used from the start, and it took a few seconds for it to register in her mind whom she was looking at.

She paled almost instantly. “Ah. This is a surprise.”

“I want to talk to Gryphon.”

“Mr. Gryphon's in the middle of a meeting right now, so I could try to pen you in for a time-”

“Nice try Jean, but I don't give a shit if he's busy,” V said with a smile. “It's important.”

“Maybe I should- ma'am? Ma'am!”

She dropped the phone as V pushed right on by, whistling as she went. The shove she gave to the doors wasn't gentle, and they slid open to a room of reps. A few she'd seen before, the rest scowled or stared at her with various forms of indignance.

Gryphon, however, didn't seem fazed. “This is...sudden.”

“You know me. Wild card.” She stalked over to the conference table's edge and put her hands down. “Clear the room. I think we need to talk about a few things.”

“Do we?”

“It involves an asset of yours, so yeah. I think we need to have a little chit chat.”

Gryphon caught the hint in her voice. The edge that almost had her pitching a chair towards the window. Her mood was nowhere near as frayed as it had been earlier, but a continuous tension had settled over her, leaving her coiled and ready to react to the slightest trigger.

He could see it. It was up to him, however, to decide how much blood he wanted in the water.

The others left when he ushered them out, and V didn't move, not even to stretch, until the doors creaked shut. Gryphon approached her carefully after that. His head was held no higher than normal, but she could read his caution. It was something he kept up at all times, but now it was tangible. Easier to spot.

Good.

“How much do you know?” she asked. “Straight up, and not any of the shit you allowed them to play on the news.”

“I understand that Chief Bradshaw was admitted to the hospital under suspicion of being attacked.”

“And?”

“And that he's in safe and stable condition as we speak. If I had to make a wager, I'd say the attack was personal.”

Her laugh wasn't even remotely warm. “Did you come to that conclusion before or after you found out about our little delivery?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it fucking matters, because it was that damn easy. Any other end to this would've left you with one dead chief and half the department up our asses, and I'm sure that would've been great for Ultor to weather. Both of its most important assets trying to gut the other? That would've been rough,” she sneered. “Though I must say for a place that prides itself on being prepared for damn near anything way to go. He slipped right through your fingers without so much as a thought.”

“I see where this is going. Shall we cut to the chase, Ms.V-”

“Boss,” she cut in. “Don't even try to use that name here. You've got cameras either inside his place or out. I want to see what happened.”

“We're already looking into the issue.”

“Good, because I want it. Everything you've got. They wanted our attention? They've got it. Besides, what's the harm in an extra set of helping hands?”

“Helping?”

“Yeah. It's better than the alternative.”

It wasn't a threat, but Gryphon's unamused expression told her he caught the meaning. “I think we can help each other as well. Wait with Jean and I'll have someone get you what you need.”

* * *

The file wasn't bad. For something that had been slapped together on an implied promise of defenestration it was thorough, and she was surprised at how much information was already there.

She had been right about the cameras, and begrudgingly admitted to herself that without them they wouldn't even have a quarter of the info present. They would've been waiting on Troy to recover, and even then there was no guarantee he'd had a good look at them.

The scattered photos weren't all clear, but they told her what she needed to know. Troy had left early, or tried to as the time stamp specified. That was his routine, and V tried not to think about the times she'd punched the hell out of his clock just to get it to shut up.

Everything else seemed normal until the moment he'd tried to get into his car, and when she flipped to the following photo where three men had grabbed him, her grip on them tightened. She let go before the crease in the photo became a tear, and continued through them all until the car they'd stuffed him into had vanished from sight.

License plates had been pulled, and a few close ups of the gang's half-covered faces had been included, but no names had been paired to them yet. They had a list of people that might fit the description, but without a match they would have to narrow them down one by one.

She did notice something interesting, however. The colors. Red and black. The idea of the Brotherhood trying to twist the knife again put her teeth on edge, but their look didn't entirely fit.

_Carnales, maybe? Shit. Both could fit. I don't see either of them wearing tats for either, unless this is some other set of assholes trying to step in. Motherfuckers would pick red._

One comment did point out the possibility of a 'gang-related disturbance' near the factory district, and that had been one of the Carnales' stomping grounds. Maybe there was more to her guess than she'd thought.

She put the folder in the passenger seat of her Venom and pulled Shaundi's number up as she backed out of the lot. She picked up right as V skidded onto the road, and V tried to keep her tone light. “Hey hon, how's it going?”

“ _I'm not turning up too much right now, but I will say that the chief hasn't exactly gotten on a lot of people's good sides. It's kind of impressive.”_

“He has a way of pissing people off. What can I say. Anyone standing out?”

“ _No single person, but as I was searching something major occurred to me. Do you have any idea what's coming up in a week?”_

“A week?” She zipped through her schedule, then the Saints', but blanked. “It's a blur right now, Shuandi. Care to share?”

“ _Ultor's honoring Monica Hughes for her 'contributions' to Stilwater's good fortune. Something along those lines. We haven't been asked to attend, but our behavior's 'appreciated'.”_

“...And having one injured chief on our doorstep sure isn't that, is it?”

“ _I think you've both pissed a lot of people off.”_

“It's a talent. Anyway, get Pierce and see if you both can meet with Ultor and Hughes to smooth that out. Maybe even offer protection.” She paused. “Damn, I think Hughes must be rolling in his grave right now. Anyway, I think Gryphon's blocked most of the news on this mess and the old PD, so we should be clear for now. Any word on the chief?”

“ _No, nothing new yet. What about you, boss? Got anything?”_

She let out the breath she'd been holding, but not entirely. No news might've been good news, but that didn't stop her from wanting more than that. “I've got some information from Gryphon that I'll be stopping by to hand over. They've got plates and names, so let's see if any of them match up. Also, photos. The fuckers had some guts, I'll give them that, but I'd rather tell them that in person. See you soon.”

Shaundi hung up, and she was in the process of entering in Johnny's number when her phone went off. “You've got great timing.”

“ _Why?”_ he asked. _“Miss me already?”_

“You know me, got to get my daily dose. Hey, feel like a trip down memory lane?”

“ _What kind?”_

“A short one. Let's just say that the lead I've got might make it worthwhile.”

* * *

After the first place turned out to be a dust-filled bust, V decided it wasn't going to be so short after all. Johnny tried to get her to shrug her frustration off when she refused to loosen her death grip on the steering wheel, but it didn't want to give up the fight just yet.

Gat turned on the radio to a random station, and she waited a minute before switching it to K12. “Probably shouldn't have called it so soon. I think I jinxed it.”

“We'll keep looking. If they're part of Angelo's leftovers there's only so many places they'll run to.”

“I know. We've got plenty of areas to hit, and local favorites to go through, and I'm...I'm cool.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, taking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. “Ice cold.”

He didn't say anything else for the rest of the trip, and V tapped her fingers on the wheel along to the beat to distract herself. The song carried them all the way to their destination, and when she saw the boarded up Brown Baggers she almost couldn't believe it was the same place.

“Ready?” Johnny asked.

She pulled into a spot down the way from the building and nodded. “Been ready since the last stop, man. Let's clear it.”

Any concerns about needing to hide or keep suspicion off of them faded when they didn't find a single car outside, but the cracked door on the front made them draw before heading in.

It had the traditional layout of your local BB. The spot for the cashier, the now-empty liquor stores, and the off-limits employee area. To anyone walking in the door that would've been enough to clear the place of suspicion, but the real prize was behind the white door. Johnny motioned for her to open it, and when she tried the handle and found it unlocked, she counted to three before shoving it open.

Johnny's shotgun swept the area, and when nothing jumped out or started shooting, he motioned for her to follow.

Behind that door was where the place showed its true colors. On the outside the brick had been left relatively bare, but red crosses and elaborate writing swirled across the walls in impressive arcs.

She kicked a rock with her boot, and it clattered off of the side of an upturned pool table. The building had to have been hopping back in its heyday, and she wandered over to the wall to trace a finger over the letters stating who owned it. It didn't even come away stained.

“Damn. I had high hopes for this place too.”

Johnny lowered his gun and rubbed the back of his neck. “You weren't the only one. They said close to the factories, right?”

“Yeah, old Carnales territory. Though I'm surprised this is even standing after all of this time. Ultor was so set on fixing this place up, but they definitely missed more than a few spots. These things could almost double as relics.”

“Cops probably hit it after we fell apart. Anyone else would've thrown this shit out and started over.”

“It would be cops,” V muttered.

He turned to her, and she found it tough to look him in the eye. “How bad is this?”

Her arms fell to her sides, and she felt exhausted. “If we're talking old grudges then there's only three people that really need to worry, and two of them are here shooting the shit, no problem. The other's in the hospital. It's not great, I'll tell you that.”

“V.”

“Johnny.”

“You talk to him lately?”

She didn't mention the dinner a few nights back, or the call she made while she was holed up and worked up in her office during his lunch break. She wasn't ready to talk about that yet, and felt the minutes tick by while Gat not-so-subtly stared her down.

Hiding it almost seemed stupid at this point. Johnny could read her like a cheap travel brochure, but she wasn't ready. Not yet, and after how she'd acted earlier her stubborn streak made her keep her mouth shut as she fished for a safe answer.

“Pierce and I met up with him a couple of weeks ago to go over a few things. Business, bureaucratic red tape nonsense, the typical stuff we have to do to play nice with the city, yadda yadda, whatever. It was a lot of the same, but...shit.” She ran a hand through her hair. “The damn thing with Hughes. Guess we went over it after all. Fucking great.”

“How the hell do you know it's not Hughes?” he asked, sounding skeptical. “Don't matter how much shit she paid Saints to spray. You change your mind, you change your mind.”

“It's not a bad guess, but I'm not feeling it. She'll stir shit up, but I don't think she'd want the press related to this one. On the other hand, the Carnales lead does feel too good to be true, eh? A bunch of guys wanting to raise their old flags high years after some assholes blew Angelo all over the tarmac? If only.”

Dex's driving had saved them that day, but the grateful feeling that came with the memory had faded a long time ago. It'd been a while since she'd thought about putting a bullet in his head, though. Longer than she'd expected.

“God, I wish Dex had dealt with even half of this shit. Bastard cut out at the right time. ...I hope his ears burn to the point that they catch on fire.”

Gat chuckled. “Ah, that'd be great. Course we'd miss it, but it's something.”

“I'd gladly take something over nothing.At least it'd be more than this!  God, where is everyone?” V stomped off towards the rooms in the back and threw more of the trash aside as she picked her way through. “No money, no weapons, nothing. Unless they're moving around on purpose this isn't making any sense.”

“Think they'd know we'd follow?” she heard Johnny ask.

“Fuck if I know. Ultor traced them here and said they'd been in the area long enough to raise eyebrows, but for all I know this is just one of many places for them to fuck around until the heat dies down.” She kicked an empty beer bottle and felt her temper begin to flare again. “You'd think they'd leave a bigger trail.”

“Yo, we're only at one place. You think they'd be that sloppy?”

“No. Wish the fuckers were, though.”

A sound boomed from the main room, and her head shot up. Gat's shotgun was already raised as he motioned for her to wait, and she crouched down as low as possible.

They hadn't bothered to close the doors behind them. It was careless on their end, but V had all but given up on getting lucky tonight. Maybe now was their chance.

She couldn't see where Johnny was focusing his attention, but when he opened fire, she made sure to cover him fast.

Flashes of red dotted the doorway when she darted forward, throwing herself behind the upturned pool table. Bullets whizzed her way, and she checked her person for anything other than her handguns. A Freckle Bitch's receipt and pocket lint stared back at her and she tossed them aside. Her knife was good, but in a firefight like this it'd only get her clipped.

“Trusty Kobra it is.” She hefted the pistol and took a quick shot at the person closest to them. All were covered in various degrees of red, but the one she popped in the knee was distracted. He went down with a scream, and V picked at another before ducking down.

“The fuck was that?” she heard Johnny ask.

“I'm running on fumes, Gat! So sue me.”

A shotgun blast tore off the corner of the table when she poked her head around, and a chunk of rotten wood flew by her face. In response, she ducked down lower and drew a bead on Mr. Shotty's arms. It took two, but they both hit their mark, sending the gun off to the side.

She turned back only to jump when Johnny threw himself into cover next to her. “Better.”

“How many left?”

“Four. Might be more, but they're not even bothering to spread out.”

“You almost sound insulted.”

“It's fucking easy, that's what it is.”

“Jesus, Gat-”

Glass shattered against the table, and when the spark caught she grabbed the collar of Johnny's jacket and yanked him away from it. He let off a few extra shots before she pushed him into the only cover they could find, and felt the adrenaline kick back in with a jolt. She'd needed it badly, and the wide grin spreading across Gat's face didn't hurt either.

“That's more like it.”

“You're hopeless,” she breathed, starting to smile herself. “And you weren't the one about to get your hair singed.”

“After half the shit you put in it, I'm surprised it didn't go up at all.”

“Hey, step off. It likes feeling pretty.” She kept a hand on his chest as she glanced out over the smoke, and had to squint to make out the slightest hint of movement. “Fucking smoke. It's giving them too much cover. We've got to flush them out or at least clear a way to the front. Dammit, what's a girl gotta do to get a grenade around here?”

Johnny slapped a new mag into his gun and laughed. “All you gotta do is ask.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled one out, flipping the pin off to the side. The pitch went right for the direction of the door, and she heard scattered yells before slapping her hands down over her ears. It was a good call, because the sound that cut across them was loud enough to make her ears ring.

Gat slung an arm around her back to shift her closer to the wall, and broke away as soon as she blinked up at him and gave a thumbs up.

Then she darted after him, and it was all too satisfying to get the drop on the first son-of-a-bitch to cross her path. She didn't even waste a bullet as her elbow went right into his nose, and she spun on her heel to sweep his feet out from under him. Her gun was up when she entered the room connecting to the front, and picked off the others not currently engaged with Johnny.

The last ran for the main door and V prayed that Johnny wouldn't run her down by accident as they sprinted after him. He had the legs to beat her, but that didn't mean that she wanted him to.

He made it through the doorway first, and she swore as she tried to keep up. Her boots skidded on the pavement when she saw someone behind the wheel of one of the junkers out front, and raised her weapon as she let out a shrill whistle. Two pot-shots weren't enough to stop a car already in motion, however, and she scrambled to dodge it as it careened forward.

It was a snap choice with snap consequences. Seemed like a good one at the time too, up until the point where the car scooped her up and sent her flying into the windshield. It felt more like a brick wall than glass as it slammed against her back, and when the pavement met her face it was only insult to who knew how many injuries.

Her arms screamed when she used them to raise her body up, but her left folded when her eyes refused to focus. Panic took over as she panted against the ground, and she went rigid when a sound went off behind her.

It took more than a few minutes for her to realize she was still breathing. That her vision had started to settle. It didn't really kick in until someone flipped her over, and her pathetic excuse of a fist slapped against Johnny's cheek.

“Ow, did you just slap me?” Johnny's face was close enough for her to pick out the frown, but it didn't last.

The blood on his shirt stood out the most, and she tried to ignore the tang of it in her mouth. She felt him feel along her arms and ribs, and felt sick only when he got to her shoulder.

“Motherfucker,” she coughed. “That piece of shit's a lot faster than it looks. Give me a sec.”

“I don't think you broke anything. Almost thought your arm was out, but you're moving it. How's your head?” Her fingers twitched and he laughed when she flipped him off. “Heh, figured as much. You're fucking lucky you didn't bust anything on me, because then you'd have to pay for it.”

“Your ugly mug, or your glasses?” When he offered his hand she let him pull her up. The slower speed helped, but she couldn't stop the swoon that hit her when he tried to get her off of the ground. “Slow down. Do you want me to throw up all over your shoes?”

His comeback was muffled as she breathed in and out, trying to right herself. It took time, but soon enough she felt solid and steady. Something that was at least marginally capable of walking and talking. Or at least she thought she did before she let go of him and swayed.

“Uh, V?”

He took her arm and she held up a finger. “Almost there. Not quite human again yet.” She spat the blood in her mouth out, and wished they'd kept a bottle of tequila in the car. She was going to need it later. “Damn, I am rusty. Used to take cars better than that.”

“You're still standing, so that's better than most,” Johnny said, refusing to let go until she was able to walk without weaving. “The fuck were you doing running after him, though? I had it.”

“Sure you did,” she muttered, brushing him off. “You're hovering, man. I'm fine.”

He took his hand away and she made the rest of the journey on her own, pausing only to take in the body on the ground by the car. Johnny hadn't left much to be recovered, and she lightly shook her head as she crouched down to check his pockets.

“Anything?”

Johnny was way too tall for her to glance up properly at the moment, but when she held up the ID he took it. “Could be. We'll see if his name rings any bells or matches what we have. Fucking shame that none of them made it. Could've picked up some good info here.”

“They started it. Not our fault if we finished it.”

She reached up and Johnny helped her stand. “Better luck next time, I guess. Might as well make the most of it before the cops show up.”

“Clear them out one by one? Better be ready to get your hands dirty.”

“I've got pavement and my own blood splattered on them right now. I can handle a little extra-”

The man that held himself up in the doorway didn't notice them at first. V almost didn't remember him either, but the red running down the front of his shirt from his nose made him stand out with almost shocking clarity.

And when he did finally see them, both she and Johnny were grinning like sharks.

“Gotcha.”


	42. Another for the list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this have been written for a while, but never seemed to want to be developed or fleshed out. ...Until today that is. Purely silly fun since V's stuck on being ridiculous with Troy right now. Probably to ward off some of the serious vibes from the other pieces too. SR1!

This wasn’t the first time she’d been behind the wheel of a Five-O. This was, however, the first time she’d been behind one with Troy, and as he pushed her to go faster she wondered if he was about to drop dead due to a heart attack.

Cops were bad. She knew this for a fact, but with the state their last job had been left in, there had been no avoiding them. Flushing the Carnales out drew attention of all kinds, and it didn’t take long for any curious cops in the area to come check it out.

The crew they’d been with had scattered, rushing towards their vehicles after taking the cops out, and V’s first instinct had been to do the same. Why not? The sirens were getting closer and they needed to leave now before they were boxed in.

But then she saw them. Two Five-O’s sitting there, completely untouched, and ready to go. The keys were left in the ignition, even.

Troy swore a blue streak when she wrenched the door open and started the engine, but got in and told her to punch it.

Now she was zipping down her token list of shortcuts in a car that wasn’t half as accommodating as her Halberd. It was quick as hell, something she found out when she had to nail a hairpin turn and almost made Troy’s cigarette fly out of his mouth, and she used it to get them as far from trouble as possible.

The road that she’d taken when racing with the Rollerz came to mind. It’d been isolated, and wasn’t widely used anymore since Price had bit it and the group had scattered, so she crossed her fingers and drove.

The only trick was hoping that nothing had flooded the way, and with the current dry spell they were going through her small wish was granted. They came to a stop tucked in the small tunnel and V rested her head against the wheel.

“Let’s not do that ever again, eh?” She glanced over at him, and Troy’s hand shook slightly as he took a long drag off of his cigarette. “Too fucking close for comfort.”

“Just a bit.” Her laugh was light, and she felt like running a mile. Anytime this happened she couldn’t burn the energy off fast enough. He continued to burn through his cigarette and she tossed her hat on the dash as she folded her hands behind her head. “Kind of feel like celebrating now, though.”

“The fact that our asses aren’t on the way to lockup?”

“That’s one thing. Pissing off the Carnales’s another, but I didn’t think we’d get to pull it off like that.”

Troy didn’t quite return the grin she gave him, but didn’t frown either. “Me neither. Hell of thing to duck out of.”

“And I think we did pretty good, aside from the whole cop bit.”

“Yeah, think you did.” He smiled, and she finally relaxed. “Not bad on the driving either, but Christ, you drive like a bat out of hell. I’m surprised the wheels are still on.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Thanks. I think. I did pull some sweet turns.”

“But it wasn’t a calming experience by any means of the word.”

“No professional driving merit for me?” Troy shook his head very slowly. “Damn. Guess you can’t have it all.”

“Sorry, V.”

“I do have this, though.” She patted the wheel affectionately and he chuckled. “Never thought I’d ever get a chance to jack one of these and keep it.”

“Gave up on the idea?”

“Almost. Kind of gave up on a lot of things associated with it, but now I’ve got options. Pretty awesome ones.”

“Like?”

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” He swallowed at the slow smile she gave him, and it grew wider. “Fuck in a cop car.”

The cigarette wavered in his grip and she thought he was going to drop it. “…You’re serious.”

“Oh, yeah. Let me know if that works for you too, because in about five seconds I’m going to crawl over this console and try to make that dream a reality. Fucking rush, man. Can’t shake it.”

Troy glanced at the cigarette stub still in his hand, then back at her. Blinking a few times, he took one puff of it and exhaled. He then opened the car’s window and tossed it out.

Her eyebrows went up. “That an okay?”

“I’d hate to crush a lifelong dream.”

“God, I love you.”

His eyes widened, but she was on him a second later, straddling his lap. Her hands went to his hair, tugging him close to cover his mouth with hers, and soon his hands were on her back and running down her sides.

The switch on the side of the seat was just far enough out of her reach for her to miss it, but when he found it the seat jerked back a stubborn inch, nearly making her headbutt him. “Okay, bad idea. Backseat?”

He nodded, and she got the door open as he yanked the keys from the ignition.

The journey to the back was much easier, though her rushing almost led to her smacking against the door frame, and both of her arms tangled in her hoodie when she tried to pull it off.

When she slid along the seats something cold brushed against her hands. Cold and metal. The fact that they were handcuffs registered around the time he slammed the door shut behind them, and she felt her face burn when he pressed her flat against the door behind her.

The cuffs remained out of sight as he eased her legs open, but nearly made her jump when the metal grazed her.

His lips were on her neck, then the skin above the collar of her t-shirt, tugging it low as he kept on going. A giggle escaped her, short and giddy. “Never seen the back of these before.”

“No? Good,” Troy said, his breath hot against her. “Shouldn’t ever.”

“It’s funny, though. All those times I guess I could’ve. Seen the backseat and then sassed the officer with something stupid.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Hell, maybe even flirted. I mean, they’ve got to deal with a lot of shit, but…coming on to them? Bad idea, right?”

He froze and raised his head up, dead serious. “The fuck?”

“…What? Too much?”

Under this light the severity of his expression surprised her, but the harsh set of his mouth eased. “Cops? Really?”

“Hey, I love a man – or woman – in uniform when they’re not trying to taze me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen or met one that hasn’t tried to eye me yet, but one can dream. Um, wonder. Could be a uniform thing, though. God, you’d look fucking amazing in one.”

“V, just…no. I don’t know.”

“Okaaaay, that subject’s getting dropped, stat. …But what about these?” She flashed the cuffs that her ass refused to be comfortable resting on, and batted her eyes. “Could be a winner.”

His eyes went from her, to the cuffs, then back to her. V was almost sure that she’d killed the mood dead enough for him to climb out and leave her there, but he didn’t budge. Only pressed a hand to his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Troy said, exasperated. “Don’t _ever_ say any of that around the others.”

“Haven’t yet. It’s a lot more fun to keep that to myself, though it’s not much of a secret now, eh?” She kissed him, and he pushed her back against the seat, his hands wrapping around her wrists after tossing the cuffs to the side. “Besides, the car’s hot enough, right?”

Her legs wrapped around his waist as best as they could be in the small space, and he rocked against her, slowly, then deliberately. One of her hands tried to wiggle out of his light hold, and he pulled it back. V frowned briefly, then pushed herself up to run her tongue over his adam’s apple.

His grip tightened, and he let out a shaky breath. “There’s something fucking wrong with us.”

“Speak for yourself. I love learning kinky things about you.”

He let go of one of her hands to unbutton her shorts, and tugged them down enough to let him slide a finger into her. Another soon joined it. “And you’re way too wet for this.”

“All your damn fault,” she moaned, biting his lip.

He pushed his tongue into her mouth, and she let her free hand grab at the chain around his neck. It pulled him down, and she curled around him. His fingers pressed deep, making her dig her nails into his back, and she felt his other hand loosen on her wrist. The opening was too easy to take, and she slipped it away to tug her shorts further down her hips.

He got the hint as well, and lifted himself up enough for her to remove them. His belt was next. She couldn’t even come up with a sentence by the time his pants were unzipped, and she ripped the condom packet open with her teeth as he continued to awkwardly balance himself above her.

Then he was inside her and she grabbed at his shoulders, keeping him close. His fingers dug into her thigh, then trailed under it, skimming the back of her knee as he raised it. The light touch made her shiver, and she raised her leg even higher, planting her boot on the ceiling for leverage.

She didn’t count on the angle, however. Or the way Troy’s breathing hitched.

Her hands clawed at his shirt, and he cupped the side of her face to kiss her, each too tangled up to notice anything else. One of their phones started ringing and the sound of the guitar riff told her it was hers, but she didn’t care. His face was buried in her neck, sucking at the skin beneath her ear.

She didn’t care about much else for a while.


	43. Rumor has it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another absurd thing that hit at 2 AM and wanted to get written. Takes place in SR1 about in the middle of the game's timeline, and done purely in good fun.

“What I'd give to be a fly on the wall of those meetings.”

V took a bite of her burger and leaned forward to see past Dee. Troy and Dex were standing close to the entrance to the offices in the back, both stuck in a conversation that appeared to be going south fast, and she groaned in disappointment when Julius ushered them both inside.

“Don't know,” Dee said, chewing on the onion ring in her hand. She reached for the last ketchup packet and kicked her feet up onto the seats they'd stolen. “Seems like boring shit most of the time.”

“Boring? Please.”

“It's big talk with everyone trying to swing their dicks around. If I want that I head down to the club. At least I'd be able to get dinner with that show.”

“It's not all politics and business. You never know, they could running the numbers from the last Skeeters game.”

“And they could all be highfiving each other in the middle of a massive gang-bang. Big deal.”

V choked, and pounded on her chest as she coughed. “The fuck, Dee!”

“What? I'm just throwing out ideas. I mean half the place jokes that they're all fucking anyway. They all spend enough time together to begin with. Then again,” she mulled, tapping her fingers on her knee, “I don't even think getting laid would help Dex unwind. Lord, just when you think someone can't get high-strung enough...”

“It'd help if you walked in without shouting at him.” V said, gathering up their trash. “...It'd also probably help if you didn't give him shit just because he's not Troy.”

“I've got two bosses. That's my limit. One of them jumps up my ass enough as it is.”

“I'm just saying, if you want info don't be a dick about it.”

“Says you. Kiss ass.”

V rolled her eyes and threw the wadded up bag at her. “Shut up. You've got to know when to bitch and when to roll with it. Now how about those cars you mentioned earlier?”

“What, the list of shit that they're willing to let go for cheap? What about it?”

“I think I'd like one.”

* * *

She didn't bother to knock when she ran into the office later. Just barreled in and tossed a small bag of powder across the desk.

It almost smacked Dex in the arm, but he didn't stop writing. “Thanks. Want to tell me what that is?”

“Heroin. Coke. Some mish-mash they thought would be cool to toss together, I don't know. Carnales were trying to sling it by my place.”

“You trace it back?”

“You bet I did. Beat the shit out of them and took an entire apartment full of this stuff.” V pulled up a chair and spun it around to straddle it. “I've got a few guys breaking it down right now, but we've got to keep a better eye out. We might've pushed them back, but they aren't getting the message yet.”

Dex picked the bag up and turned it over. “Any idea where they were trying to sell?”

“Old Rollerz territory. ...And my fucking street, but I think that was more random than anything else. They had a map up with some other planned routes, but I figured we could stop by when you're free and go over the important stuff.”

“Nice.” He tossed the bag back to her, looking pleased, and went back to his papers. “I've got some things to finish up, but you come by early tomorrow and we'll clear it up.”

She stashed it in her pocket and made a mental note to pitch it once she got home. “Ah. Still got stuff from the meeting?”

The pen paused, but went right back to recording a sentence or two about the Vice Kings. “You could say that.”

She wasn't trying to pry too hard, but Dex didn't even move the papers out of sight or tell her to leave. So she peeked, watching his neat handwriting detail the mess she'd made of Tanya's old place. “The boss wasn't pressing you too hard, was he?”

“No. You did good, actually. Keeping Tanya from crawling back gives us the advantage in the area and King's got to be bleeding money left and right. That hurts, and Julius wants us to keep the heat on.”

She grinned, and noticed Dex mirror the gesture even though his eyes never left his work. “Cool. So, mostly just business as usual?”

“You know it. Never stops.”

“Nothing too terribly exciting?”

Dex raised his head, noticed the way she was idly picking at her fingerless gloves, then went back to work. “You're intent on that today. Any reason why?”

“No, just curious.” Her eyes flicked up and Dex did so at the same time. “About nothing.”

“You're a horrible liar, V.”

“Hey, you looked tense earlier. I had no idea if what Julius wanted to say was good or bad, so I figured I'd ask without asking.”

“Which doesn't get you anything.”

“But it doesn't piss you off either, so...huzzah?”

He gave a short laugh and pulled over one of the folders he'd kept off to the side. “Mission accomplished?”

“Kind of.” She switched positions in the chair so that she was facing the wall instead. “I still have no idea what the hell you were talking about, but a girl can wonder right?”

“She can wonder as much as she wants.” He flipped it open, and she did her best not to immediately start scanning its contents. “No problem there.”

“But at some point you've got to let me in on all those wild sex parties you guys have. They sound amazing.”

There was a clatter and V glanced over to see that Dex's pen had fallen from his hand and rolled right off of the desk. _“What?”_

“You know. The freaky shit that the LT's do on the weekends. Must be the ones that I don't stop by on, because I seem to miss them every time.”

“The fuck? You're not being serious about this, are you?”

Her neutral expression cracked, then broke at the look on Dex's face. “Nah, I'm totally messing with you. You might want to do something about those rumors, though. Pretty damn hot.”

He pressed his hands to his temples. “I'm sure they are.” He recovered his pen and glared at her when she didn't stop smirking, but started to smile himself. “Fuck. That's a new one.”

“You're telling me. I was all set up to be disappointed too. No fun guessing who's bending who over what if you don't get a turn.”

“Don't worry. You want one, I'll be the first to let you know,” he said, flipping through the papers again. “Might want to ease into this gently next time, though.”

“Gently?” She turned the chair so she could face him head on. “Only if you ask nicely.”

His pointed stare didn't last when the two heard someone trading words from outside.

One voice she couldn't pin down, but Troy's was impossible to miss, accent and all. Dex went right back to his papers while she folded her arms behind her head. Neutral was what she had aimed for, but her posture tensed the moment after he knocked on the doorframe and came right in.

You could only joke about bending someone over for so long, and she willed her mind not to jump from point A to point B while he was within arm's reach.

“Busy?”

“Don't think it'd matter if I was,” Dex replied, folding his arms. “You got something?”

Troy had a file in his hand and dropped it on the only clear corner of the desk. “Dragged some extra info out about the deal coming up. Thought you might want to check up on that.”

“I'll put it on the list. V's got something going on, so I'll get to it once we're done.”

“Something?” He turned towards her and she felt her throat close up. “Something good?” The sharp nod made him cant his head to the side, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from swearing. “You okay?”

The minute the nervous laugh left her mouth she knew she was done. “Yeah, it's nothing.”

“Nothing? Sure.” Checking Dex next, he took a decent drag off of his cigarette and frowned. “Any light you can shed on this?”

Dex traded a look with her, but all he did when she gestured for him to drop it was shrug. “Some.”

“Such as?”

“Just some disappointment. She's lucky I'm not going to go down the list of reasons why we're not all having sex right now.”

Troy choked on the smoke he was exhaling and V wanted to sink into the floorboards. Sink low then try to reach even lower than that. When he recovered enough to snap his head towards her her hands flew up. “Wait a minute! That's not what I said-”

“For real? I know I heard something in your tone when you went on about it. Didn't want to be left out.”

The insult didn't quite leave her mouth as she scowled at Dex, but she switched tack when she noticed the odd way Troy was looking at her. She crossed her arms and pouted. “Would you? Shit, here I was thinking I'd just need to start staying late after cards. See what that's all about.”

“Those back rooms are pretty spacious,” Dex noted.

“The tables seem pretty sturdy too. How many do you think we could fit on there?” She looked between the two, but the way the corner of Troy's mouth kept on edging down told her her luck would be better with Dex. “With shuffling. Lots of shuffling.”

“Three would be safe, four would be pushing it.”

“Could always drag another over. Twice the room, twice the fun.”

“That's...not a bad idea.” Dex conceded, leaning back in his seat.

She tapped her fingers on her chin and let her lips curve up. “Still got to take a few things into account, though..”

“Like what?”

“Johnny, and whomever else is invited to that match. Could get pretty fucking creative even with the right amount of real estate. I think Lin would laugh me out of the room at the suggestion, but you'd be cool, right?”

Dex thought it over, but didn't hide his smile. “I could be down for that. You?”

“Between you and Gat?” Her grin went wicked as she eyed him up. “If I have to be the meat in anyone's sandwich, I couldn't ask for better.” Switching to Troy, she made sure to drag her eyes over him at an excruciatingly slow pace. “If I play my cards right maybe I could even wrangle you up there. Four's reasonable-”

“Can you just stop?” Troy wasn't looking at either of them now, and she saw his jaw work as he walked over towards the corkboard. “Don't we have any real fucking business to go over?”

“Not even going to try playing along, eh?” she asked chewing on her lip.

He pinned some additional notes to the board, making Dex sit up straight, but didn't bother to turn around. “With your game of who's going to try and turn you into a pretzel first? Think I'll pass.”

Dex let out a low whistle as her slight blush went dark, and she shut her mouth tight.

“Dex, you ever get that thing settled with Julius?”

V pulled down on the brim of her hat and kept her eyes glued to the table as Dex pushed his chair back and got up. “Thing? You want to be more specific than that?”

“You know what I'm talking about. Lopez. The McManus.”

“No news usually means one thing.”

“It's on?”

The question hung in the air, and Dex let it go until he was satisfied it'd been long enough. “We're still on. Wasn't much to settle.”

Troy sighed. “Same as before?”

“That's right.”

“And you?” He gestured towards her, but she didn't acknowledge it. “Getting in some practice still?”

Her aim was shaky, but getting better every day. Johnny's tip on keeping her breathing in line helped, and the fact that she was trying to use it now wasn't lost on her. “Yep.”

“It's not giving you any serious problems? I know we probably should've given you the rundown sooner. Tried to set you up with something that didn't kick as bad-”

“Don't sweat it, chief. I'm rock solid.”

He let the words trail off, and she saw Dex approach out of the corner of her eye. “You heard her. Solid. She'll be ready when we need her.”

Troy reached for the dwindling cigarette in his mouth and she turned her head enough to catch him studying her. Her fingers dug into her arms and she went back to staring at the papers on Dex's desk.

“You ever get a chance to look into that lead about the shipyard?”

Dex touched her shoulder and she nodded. “Yeah. Looks busy, but they've got a strict routine they stick to. I get enough people there at the right time and we can clear it.”

“Sooner or later?”

“Sooner.” She tilted her head so she could see him from under the brim of her hat. “There's a big shipment coming in this week. I'd hate to let that squeeze by.”

“Good. Get back to me when you've got a time and date set.”

She nodded again, and couldn't quite avoid Troy's steady gaze. “Will do.”

* * *

Dee grinned at her when she passed by, but dropped it fast when she had to catch her arm. “Shit. What did they do, ream you in there?”

“No, and for the record please don't bring up orgies ever again.” She raised an eyebrow and V rolled her eyes. “The only one having raunchy sex around here is you, Dee. …And possibly Gat. Anyway, I need to get wasted. Pronto.”

“Like primo pronto, or...”

“I don't even give a shit right now.”

“Oh, _fuck._ You had to drop that bomb, didn't you?” Dee slung an arm around her shoulders and guided her towards the door. “Way to go, sweets.”

“Dropped it, threw myself into it, and why the hell do I even open my mouth sometimes?”

“Because you're a hoot. Don't worry about it.” She tugged her closer and pressed a small kiss to the side of her forehead. “Their loss.”

She supposed it was, and later at the bar when she started her line of shots and pounded back the last she couldn't help but reflect back on it again.

How Dex had played along with no objections while Troy couldn't even pull a smile off. It made her sip her next drink as she tried to piece together the expression on his face.

It'd take one more for her to say, 'Screw it', and one more soon after to switch to wondering about him in general. How he'd purse his lips a certain way when he'd exhale, and switch to pulling off the most difficult tricks at her prompting. How during games he'd grip the cards when he had a decent hand, while the other tapped at his cigarette. The way he'd slip her an extra smoke even if she wasn't out, and spark his lighter before she'd even reach hers.

How warm he'd felt when she'd leaned in close before. Wrapped an arm around him. Touched him.

One step further and she knew this dance. Had played it out more than once, but never could get rid of the way her chest fluttered at the idea.

She couldn't drink enough to push the thought out after that.


	44. Learning the ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V's got a lot to learn. When she wanders in the day after her canonization she gets an intro to just how much. SR1!

The next day she couldn't even breathe without having it hurt. This was what she'd been afraid of when she'd fallen into bed without even bothering to put a bottle of painkillers within reach, and paid for it dearly with each step towards the kitchen.

They kicked in long after the water in the shower turned cold, and by the time she made it to the church she'd started feeling human again instead of a side of badly tenderized beef. None of the people from the day before were hanging around the front to her relief, and she poked her head inside the church to try to find anyone familiar to talk to.

“Uh, Troy around?” she asked one of the guys sitting in the cracked pews. His Skeeters jersey stood out in the flood of purple, leaving her staring at it without meaning to.

He was tossing his lighter up into the air to catch it, and stopped long enough to point off to the right. “Yeah, he's in his usual place.”

“Which is...?”

“Shit, the office. Well, one of the offices. Might want to knock before you go in, though.”

She grinned. “Cool. Thanks, man.”

The path to the back didn't have many people lingering there, and she shoved her hands in her pockets as she poked her head around the corner. Sure enough, the guy was right. Troy was reading over a set of papers, his brow drawn, and she knocked three times on the doorframe before she lost her nerve.

He lowered the papers and she waved. “Yo.”

“Hey.” He smiled around his cigarette and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Didn't think I'd see you back so soon.”

“Well, you want to get shit done you've got to come in. Just like any other job. How's the lip?”

“Stings, but it's not bad.” Troy's eyes swept over her as she walked in, and V noticed the way his smile faded when they settled on the bruises. “How're you holding up?”

“Been better. Been worse too, but I'd hate to see the other guys. I wasn't exactly trying to be careful when we got into it.”

“Canonizations can get pretty bad.”

“I bet, but I'm cool. They wanted to fuck me up, but at least I made them work for it first.”

He gave her a wry look and put his papers down as he continued to examine her. When he reached out to touch the bridge of her nose she nearly jumped. “Still tender, eh?”

“...Yeah. That's putting it fucking lightly.”

His fingers handled her gingerly, applying hints of pressure, but never enough to make it hurt. The cigarette in his mouth moved as he pursed his lips, angling up and down as she watched it. “Breathing fine?”

“Mostly.”

“You on anything right now?”

“Over the counter junk. Nothing serious. I kinda wish I had something to take the edge off, but I don't think going for coke would be the best thing at the moment.”

That got him to raise his eyebrows up and down. “Probably tear you up more.”

“Maybe, but I'd feel fucking fantastic before the nosebleed would kick in. That's almost worth it, right?”

He snorted and leaned back against the desk. “So you say, kid. But if anything changes you get back to me, got it? Hate to see you put out by something like that when we could've caught it early.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She stepped back and touched her nose herself, wincing. “I'll take extra care not to get punched in the face again anytime soon. Scout's honor.”

"Sure. So, work?"

"Yeah. Thought you'd be the guy to talk to about that."

He tilted his head to the side and pinched his cigarette between his fingers. "What did you have in mind?"

“Uh, not-” Her mind went straight from the brawl to the weight of the handgun as she brought it up to aim it, and a chill settled over her. The next word caught, and she lowered her eyes as her hands went into her pockets. “Not much. Didn't really think that through before hobbling over here.”

“You good with cars?”

“I can be.”

The relaxed expression he'd had before she had fumbled was still there, but his eyes didn't leave hers for a second. “I've got a guy that's been wanting some help. He's had his eye on a few cars in particular, but hasn't had much luck getting them. Sound good?”

Her nod was quick. “Oh yeah. You got a name or number?”

“Everything but his fucking shoe size. Could probably get that in three, though,” he said, reaching over the desk to grab a small notepad. “Hook up with him and he'll have you picking cars up in no time.”

He ripped out the sheet and she took it, noting the address and number. “Cool. Thanks, man.”

“No problem. Should keep you busy for a while.”

_And away from smoking guns. For now._

The small smile she gave wasn't one of her best, and his dropped again. “You okay?”

She started rocking back on her heels. “Yeah, I'm good. Thought we went over that already.”

“A lot went down yesterday. It's okay to admit it.”

“...I know.” She stopped moving, and almost immediately felt the tension sink in again. The uneasy feeling settling in her stomach made her fingers clench, and she felt her pack of cigarettes begin to give. “It's there, but not. Like a buzzing in the back of your head during a bad hangover. I'm working on it.”

Troy nodded, his cigarette going back to his mouth. “And you'd like me to fuck off, right?”

That made her hesitate, but he didn't challenge her or push harder. Only waited as he exhaled a smooth line of smoke. She wondered if he'd burn through a whole pack just to give her time to answer. “Knee-jerk reflex, yes. Others...don't know yet.”

He exhaled again, and she found it hard not to follow the motion. “But you'd like to get the hell out of here, right?”

“...Yeah,” she admitted, see-sawing back and forth on her feet.

“Noted. I'll fuck off.” The corner of his mouth went up, and he handed her an envelope. “When you get to Miguel's hand him this. It's old business, but I think he's been waiting for it long enough.”

“Will do.”

She started to fold it and stopped abruptly, biting her lip as she tried to smooth it back out. He laughed, the sound surprisingly light coming from him, and her eyes darted back up. “Don't worry about it. It's an old bet. Nothing but cash. You could fold it into a crane and it'd be fine.”

“No shit?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No shit. Might not want to go too overboard there, though. Probably piss him off to have to shanghai his earnings out of that.”

“Good to know.” Folding it in two, she slipped it into her pocket and resisted the urge to fold it up further.

“The list of cars he's going to give you are going to be all over the place. Some common, some hot. You'll need to move fast when you're messing with the wiring.” She nodded slowly. “...Which you haven't done before, have you?”

“Not well. One time I lost my keys and couldn't start it without yanking its guts out. Nearly took out the radio. I think the wipers were also freaking out, and-that's not exactly earning me your vote of confidence. Uh, ignore that.”

She winced, but he didn't seem phased. “We'll work on it. I want you to talk to a guy named Sam. He's with Julius's crew, so you'll be rolling with him soon enough. He'll run you through the basics. Just look for the Skeeters jersey. He's the only one that keeps up with them.”

 _Skeeters?_ The guy flipping his lighter in the church came to mind, the signature colors of the university all over him, and nodded. Talk about a coincidence. “Should probably hit him up before Miguel, eh?”

“Your call there, but it would keep you from drawing too much attention.”

“Ah, right. The cops would pick the time that I'm turning my mark into a rave party to grab me. I'm sure that's not fun to clean up after, eh?”

He chuckled. “Nope.”

“I'll make sure to cover my ass, then.” With nothing else to say, she started to drift towards the exit, but took four steps and had to stop. One last thought had kicked in, and kicked in strong. “Troy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” she said, turning back. “For the other night.”

Troy froze for a second, the trail of smoke coming from his cigarette hanging in the air. He waved it off, moving it, but not clearing it entirely. “You don't have to do that.”

“No, but I want to. Kind of fucking rude if I don't, because...” The gun flashed in her mind, coming up in a smooth arc, and V felt her mouth go dry. “Well, because I'm here to bug you, and not dead in that alley.”

“I mean it. You don't have to, kid.”

“No, but you didn't have to help me either. Could've just kept on walking like any other sane person would've. So, thanks.” Holding up the address, she tapped it with her fingers as she left. “Let me show you it was worth it.”

* * *

“When was the last time you said you did this?”

“Couple of years ago.” She waved the wire cutters back and forth between the wires floating in front of her, and Sammy gave a heavy sigh from his spot in the passenger seat. “Hey, it's a work in progress.”

He leaned over the console and pointed at the snarled mess. “Yeah, a shitty one. You move through them too fast and don't spend enough time thinking about it. I already told you what you need to point out and isolate.”

“And I put them aside!”

“Not all of them. I thought you had this when we were in the other ride?”

“I did. Or at least I thought I did.”

“Could've run through it a second time. No problem there, girl.”

V dropped the cutters and tapped her fingers on the floorboards, hating the feeling of embarrassment settling over her. “Yeah, you could've. I guess I got a little excited about getting my hands dirty.”

“They'll get covered soon enough. You want me to get you through the rest of this one?”

“You mean it's not completely fucked?”

“Hell no, but it would've been if you'd nicked the wires in front of you.”

“Shit.” She idly chewed on the unlit cigarette in her mouth and threw the cutters onto the driver's seat. “Get down here before I fry something.”

“Like yourself?”

“....I would.”

They had burned half the day in the back of Sammy's garage. As one of the few Saints with space, he had the real estate to store cars if anyone was on the move, or entertain anyone with illusions of moving outside of their basic skill set like her.

He had been waiting around for Julius when she had approached him again, but told her that he had some time to spare. Just had to talk to the bossman, and then they could meet up later in the day. She'd warned him about her initial attempt, but he'd brushed it off. 'No one gets it perfect on the first try.'

That had been hours ago, and V wondered if he was seriously having second thoughts. After getting her through the lock with few issues, she'd fallen apart when the technical shit came out. His good mood had changed to something much more pessimistic, but he hadn't booted her out yet. Facts like that always gave her hope, but every time she slipped her little promise popped up. Reminded her that for a promise it'd come off more as a boast.

She hadn't even seen Miguel's face yet, and she felt like she'd put both of her feet in her mouth.

“Watch this.” Sammy had taken her place, and gestured towards the wire in his hands. “You following?”

“I'm on it, don't worry.” She shook off the niggling voice picking at her, and stuck close enough to see everything without crowding him.

He went through the motion, checked it twice, then let her make the cut. “Good, now you want to try starting it?”

She took in a deep breath and retraced the last fifteen minutes of their lesson. “Why not?”

It took a couple of tries, but it came to life, the engine sputtering in spite of her best efforts. Sammy grinned, and she wiped the back of her forehead with her hand. “About fucking time, eh? I'd run you through another, but I'd like to get to sleep before three. No offense.”

“None taken, man. Thanks for putting up with me. You're totally going on my list, though.”

His grin faltered, and V tried not to snicker. “List?”

“Of people I get to bug the hell out of when I'm screwed. Cool?”

“Sure, girl. Whatever gets you going,” he said, relaxing. A sharp jingle cut through the air as he fumbled for his pocket, and she leaned back against the frame as he took the call. “Hey, what's up?” He nodded a few times, tilting his head back and forth when the woman on the other end kept on going, and stretched. “Yeah, that could work. Give me ten and I'll be right over. Nah, just showing one of the new girls the ropes. Simple shit.”

 _Yeah, real simple,_ she mused, wiping her hands off on her shirt. The dark streaks stood out against the red, and she groaned.

Sammy caught her eye when she switched to wiping them off on her jeans and winked. “Hungry?”

* * *

Saints were strange. She had seen them off and on over the last couple of years, but never had a chance to get a close enough look to reach her own conclusions. Each gang seemed to attract a certain type, the racers, the ladder-hoppers, the close-knit families. The Saints? They drew anyone and everyone.

And with this in mind they seemed to welcome any that had shed blood in their name with open arms. It was fucking bizarre to feel that kind of pride being directed at her, but after beating the shit out of a few of their established members it was refreshing not to have to wait for someone to get back at her.

It'd thrown her for a few seconds, but the guy that had actually broken his nose during her canonization seemed impressed, and when he offered her a fist-bump she'd gladly returned it. Another bought her a drink after she shared an amended tale of her time with the VKs the day before, and Sammy himself pushed a flaming shot her way to celebrate the fact that she hadn't been electrocuted.

It was a lot to take in. A lot to get comfortable with, and once she'd settled in a lot to enjoy.

Vick - one of Johnny's girls - helped her keep her balance along with Sammy when they stumbled outside after their bender, and the rest of the group brought up the rear as they cheered loudly.

“You guys are nuts,” V slurred, tugging at the back of Sammy's shirt. “How many shots was that?”

“Enough.” He tugged her arm so that he had a better grip on it, and helped take more of her weight off of Vick. “Don't tell me you're done already?”

“Hell no. Just a little winded. Give me time.”

“Sure, honey. Just give you a nightcap and we'll be good, right?” Vick joked. The blonde gave her a giant wink, and V tried not to focus too much on the shade of red on her lips.

The hiccup that cut through her left the three laughing as they kept on walking. “Okay, maybe we've all had too much. I don't know. What do you say, Sam?”

“I say you're a fucking lightweight, that's what-”

One shot cut through the air. Then two. Vick had her gun out before V could spin around, and Sammy held onto her tight as they tried to spot the shooter.

That's when the yelling started. “Cops!”

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sammy stammered as he looked to Vick.

She pointed towards the street stretching behind them, and V tried to blink against the way the streetlights glinted off of her. “Grab a car and get out. I'll be right behind you.”

V felt him pull at her, and they broke into a run that had her heart hammering in her chest. Everything swayed, tilting as she tried to wake herself up, and she didn't care where she was going. Only that they were that much further from the gunfire behind them.

They flew down an alley, and once they were on the other side he sidled up to the first car within reach a worn Komodo. He slapped at the glass and reached into his pockets. “Okay, give me a second-”

The old pipe was in her hands before he'd finished his sentence. He ducked away when she struck the window the first time, then shot back to her side when it gave. She let the pipe fall to the ground and waited for the alarms to kick in. They didn't.

“Sorry, man. No time to play it safe!” she gasped, trying to catch her breath as she popped the lock. “They're way too fucking close for comfort. Can you get the rest?”

“Can I? Just get the hell in the car!”

She climbed across the console to get into the passenger seat, her head starting to spin. His swearing filled the small space as she let her eyes close, and she took to counting breaths as he worked. “You can do it, Sam. No sweat,” she murmured, one of her hands on the gun stored in the back of her jeans.

“Right, right. We're fucked. So fucked.”

“Hey, we're cool. You're cool. I've got total faith in you.”

“That's fucking reassuring.”

“You'd prefer it was me down there? I'd rather keep the cops off of you, but you want me there I'll hop on down in a jiff.” She heard the engine start, and opened her eyes in time to see him close the door. “Oh, fuck yes. You're amazing.”

“Keep on talking, girl. I'm going to need that fucking praise to get us out.”

Her gun came out as she kept on going, and when they tore down the street she didn't care that she was close to reciting sonnets about his fucking jersey. They were gone. Safe. She slumped in her seat and laid her gun on her lap, humming as the quiet settled over them.

“You awake over there?”

Her eyes were glued to the beige ceiling hanging over them, and she felt him nudge her shoulder. “Mmm.”

“We're going over doors again tomorrow.”

“Mmm?”

“Yeah, because that's not going to fly every time.”

“No, probably not.” She yawned and closed her eyes again. "Don't think that would impress Troy much either."

She heard Sammy chuckle. "No, don't think that would work on him."

"Damn." She snapped her fingers. "I'm going to have to seriously step up my game then."


	45. Hit me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and Troy talk. It's a first for them, kind of. Pre-SR1, originally done for a prompt, but 3-sentences didn't seem to cut it.

They didn't go over this in training. Sure they went over the basics, tried to get him ready to walk the walk and talk the talk, but there was no foolproof handbook for getting in tight with your marks.

And there was no fucking handbook for getting close to those a tier above that. Julius he'd worked for. Bled for. He'd thrown in his lot and tried to ignore the voice in the back of his head that justified every action.

What was going through Troy's head right now, however, wasn't the usual warning. No, it was calling him a grade-A dumbass for thinking this was a good in with someone.

Though this wasn't what he was initially going for. What he'd wanted to do was make it clear that if things went bad, he'd have the other guy's back no matter what. He did forget one huge factor, though. The guy in question was Johnny Gat, and subtle didn't have a place in his vocabulary. The guns were going to come out at some point, and in the short amount of time they'd worked together Troy should've predicted that. Seen it coming soon after they'd made it to the meet.

Now he was weathering his poor performance best as he could while also trying not to bleed all over the inside of Johnny's Venom. The thing was spotless, easily one of the best kept cars he'd seen, so when Gat had given him the go ahead to hop in he'd nearly balked. But here they were, and as his vision continued to clear, he was surprised they'd even made it that far under that much fire.

“Think we got them all?” Troy asked, checking the rearview mirror. The meeting was supposed to have been a one-on-one between the Saints and the Vice King's reps, but Green had bailed. He'd left one of King's other lieutenants to pick up the slack, and he'd brought back up.

“Don't know, and don't care. Green was supposed to be there, and he fucking choked. We do this again, and I'll give him something better to choke on.”

Troy chuckled. “Bet you will.” He leaned an arm against the door and tried not to start when Johnny turned. Johnny had a lead foot, but Troy didn't give a shit with the pain currently running through him. Distance was good. Not getting shot at was better. “Fuck, what a mess. Thanks for the out.”

He nodded once and Troy sat up, blinking a few times to steady himself. The streetlights made it almost difficult to pick out the signs dangling above, but he knew this area well enough to ignore them. What he didn't ignore was Gat's turn onto the street past the one leading to the church.

“Hey, that's not our street,” he threw out, holding his hand to his side. “Thought we'd hit the church first.”

“Not going there yet. Boss'll be there when we get there, so we might as well get this shit off.”

“Yeah, 2 AM's not his usual.” And it wasn't his, but that was what caffeine was for. “I think we've got at least three hours to burn before he'll head back.”

“Long enough.” Johnny wiped a hand off on his jeans and turned the corner fast, making Troy grab for the door. “I'd also like to pick up something special for the VKs in the area. For later.”

“Later.” Troy wasn't sure if the chill came from the air conditioner or his smile. “I think you'll get your chance after this. They'll come knocking.”

He turned back to the road. “Good.”

It took a few minutes for the conversation to finally click. They weren't going to the church. They were going to Gat's apartment, and Troy wondered just how bad they really were at the moment. He'd caught himself in the mirror briefly, and didn't get a good look, but he didn't have to chance a guess to say that he looked like shit. Gat wasn't much better, so it made sense to get cleaned up.

That's what he kept on telling himself as they came to a stop in front of an older building. It wasn't far from the church either, he noted, checking the street and the apartment number as they lumbered towards the door.

“Hope you're not at the top.”

Gat gave him a sidelong glance. “Nice up there.” When Troy frowned he shook his head. “I'm not fucking carrying you if that's what you're going on about.”

“Just...I'll follow you, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair and pointed ahead. “I'm not that fucked up.”

He shoved the door open, and Troy made sure to grab it before it closed behind him. It was only a couple of floors, but by the time they reached Johnny's door he felt drained. It was pretty damn pathetic, but he kept his mouth shut as he went inside and Johnny kicked the door closed behind them.

It was quiet. Quiet and empty apart from the furniture and television sitting in the middle of the living room. Troy looked over each piece briefly then stepped further inside to give Johnny space as he cut around him.

“Mind if I...?” He gestured toward his face and Gat pointed to a room behind him. “Thanks.”

He parked himself in front of the mirror and flipped on the light. It felt like he'd been punched again as he took in everything, and the shiners he had were definitely going to stick around tomorrow.

“Jesus.” He lightly touched his cheekbone and didn't bother with his eye. It was swelling already, blurring his vision enough to irritate, and he was lucky that hit had glanced. He reached for the cabinet to his left and pulled out a towel, leaning into the doorway to hold it up.

Johnny had his gun out, and Troy felt his body tense. It flashed under the fluorescent light of the kitchen as he placed it down on the old wooden dining table, and Troy took in a quick breath once it was out of reach.

Gat turned towards him, giving him a quick scan, then pulled out a large gleaming knife. “Knock yourself out.”

Troy ducked back in before Johnny could say anything else. Part of the towel went under the faucet as he stared forward, paler than he had been, and sighed when he pressed the cool cloth to his face. It wasn't much of a relief, but it was something.

“So, you live alone?”

“....You see anyone else?”

“No, just curious,” Troy said, scrubbing off the blood on his hands. “Looks like you haven't been here long either.”

No pictures were up, leaving the walls dull and bare. The only thing that had character in this place aside from the owner was the armchair in the living room, and Troy wondered if Johnny even bothered to sleep here.

And with the lack of response, Troy swore as he poked his head around the corner again. He wasn't in the spot he'd been in before, and Troy swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to listen for anything over the water running. “My place's kind of the same.”

He'd walked into this with the intention of treading carefully, but still had no clear idea what counted as okay to Gat. He'd done small talk before with little success, but couldn't help opting for it when silence was the alternative. Still, this was one of his better attempts. Johnny hadn't said more than five words to him before, so this almost-conversation was the most progress he'd made yet.

“Move around a lot?”

The voice came from the room to his right and Troy did his best to calm his breathing before responding. “Not if I can help it. I'm just not used to the space. I had a smaller place before this one, and I almost don't know what to do with it. Could throw random shit up, but what's the point?”

Gat chuckled, and Troy nearly jumped when he came in. He ducked around him for the same cabinet and pulled another towel out, tugging at his stained tank. “Ain't none. There's better use for the space.”

“Uh, you want me to-” Troy pointed towards the exit and Johnny raised an eyebrow. The cramped space didn't leave a lot of room for shuffling, and when Gat pushed the shower curtain to the side Troy got the message. “Right.”

He cleared out and tried not to think about the fact that most of the blood covering Johnny wasn't his. With nowhere else to go he flopped down onto the couch and winced. The door slammed shut, and Troy waited for the shower to start. The water came on and he sat up to take another look at the room.

It was generic in every way, form, and fashion, and by the time he was done going over it he knew he wouldn't find anything out here.

The bedroom would be the best bet, but crossing that line even with Johnny holed up in the shower was asking to get a bullet in the head. There wasn't a guarantee he'd be able to move fast enough to get out if Gat threw the door open either. Both of his legs felt like he'd run a marathon to avoid the VKs, and right now he wouldn't be able to manage a brisk jog let alone a sprint.

When the water cut off he tossed the idea out and stayed put. Now wasn't the time, and if he played his cards right then maybe he'd get another chance later.

_Can't rush with this. Rushing's sloppy, and you can't afford that, got it?_

So, couch it was. It wasn't too bad either, and Troy knew he was getting a little too comfortable as he waited. Minutes passed and he felt his eyelids starting to drift shut.

The door opened and Johnny took a detour into the room Troy had pinned as his, bloody clothes in tow. He'd changed into something similar to what he normally wore, and Troy didn't miss the knife at his side as he passed through.

“You don't mind bloodstains on your couch, do you?” Troy muttered as he rubbed his eyes, “I picked the first spot in front of me and didn't think about it.”

“That one's seen worse. Now if you stained the car you're fucking paying for it.” Troy quickly glanced up only to see Gat aim a shit-eating grin at him. “And I'm talking deep-cleaning and detailing.”

He sat there in place, his mouth hanging open a bit, then pursed his lips. “Yeah, red's a little tacky with that paint job.”

“You better not be saying what I think you're saying,” Johnny said, crossing into the kitchen.

“And insult your lady? No worries there.” Troy let himself lean into the couch and closed his eyes. “But on that subject, that whole thing with the Vice Kings could've gone better.”

“When I get the last word in it usually goes better.”

“Yeah, getting the shit kicked out of me is a pretty awful conversation ender. I try to avoid that if I can help it.” Troy held a hand to his ribs and pressed down gently, but the dull throbbing didn't stop. “But do you start all conversations like that?” _With a fucking bullet to the head?_

Troy heard a door close, and he cracked open an eye a second later to see Gat holding out a beer to him. “They didn't want to talk. Motherfuckers wanted to open fire, so I saved them the trouble. Fired first.”

The Vice Kings had given them a frosty reception, but anyone would've with the way Gat had been moving around. They had only had the time to get their opening statement out before he'd started firing, and it'd gone to hell from there.

Still, they hadn't walked in their with their guns out. The Vice Kings had. If he stretched it, he could've called it self-defense or self-preservation. Stretched it thin and far. “So, it's you or them?”

“You or them,” he agreed.

He'd seen Gat from a distance before and heard more than his fair share of rumors from cops and bangers alike, but this was the first time Troy had been there to see his handiwork and the facts had weight. It left him cold the longer he thought about it, but it'd been something to witness and be fucking grateful he wasn't on the other end of.

“Yeah, it was kind of one-sided when I was able to catch it.” And fucking brutal. He'd been fixated on the damage being dealt, so when the guy to his right had landed a hit he'd taken it full-force.

Johnny fell into the large armchair next to the couch and laughed. “It wasn't pretty.”

“What, you or my fucking spill?” Troy asked, tilting the beer back.

Gat grinned, the look of it sharp but nothing like before, and drank from his own beer.

“Ah, great. Guy must've hit a grand slam if you're not willing to talk.”

“Didn't say I wouldn't.”

“And I did get that guy that was closing in on you.”

Johnny rolled his shoulder, and kicked his legs up on the ragged coffee table. “Once you found your way back up. Took you long enough.”

Troy groaned. “Fuck. This your way of saying I should get better at taking a hit then come crawling back to you? ”

“Maybe.”

The grin grew wider and Troy flipped him off. “Sorry, man. No can do. My skull's thick, but not that fucking hard.”

“What's Julius's deal anyway? Having us aim low like that?” He finished the beer off and put it down on the worn table with a hard clack. “We should be going for King or any of the other fuckers.”

“He wants to fix the Row. Told you that up front and he's being careful about it.”

“One hood at a time?”

“If he has to.”

Johnny tilted his head in his direction and the edge to his words wasn't missed. “If he has to?'”

Troy started to nod, and Johnny snorted. “What? Don't believe him?”

“Boss knows how to talk, but he's not ready. He can't fight or take shit long as the Saints are stuck where they are.”

“Hmm.” Troy drained the rest of the beer and pulled out a cigarette. “Not even going to try and sugarcoat it, eh?”

“No point.”

“True. No need to mince words there.”

He lit it - using up his last match - and took a moment to let it catch before inhaling. He could handle this any number of ways, the careful omission, the non-answer, the diversion, but he couldn't see Gat playing well with any of that. So he stuck with what worked for now. The truth.

“We've got a lot of ground to cover, I'll say that much. We're still feeling things out and growing. Can't do much more until we're secure in that.”

“They're not going to wait for you.”

“We know, but you're right. We're not ready, not yet, and tackling any of the others head on's a recipe for disaster. We've got to play it smart until we've got a better foothold, even if we've got some heavy hitters playing for us. You've got a decent swing, but you're not going to hit a home run every time, right?”

Johnny didn't bother to respond, and Troy exhaled, clenching his teeth as he let go of the breath carefully. Minutes passed as he puffed away, and his attention kept on wanting to drift to his left as Troy tapped his fingers on his leg.

“Yo.”

“Yeah, man?”

“Got an extra? Ran out before we hit the motherfuckers.”

“Sure. Brand matter?”

“Fuck no.”

“That works for me.” Troy fished for his pack and handed over the cigarette. “Three left. You're lucky I've got spares.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gat said, placing the cigarette between his lips. “How about a light?”

He reached for the matchbook in his pocket. The empty matchbook. “Just used my last one. No lighter?”

“Not on me.”

“Well, I'd offer to help, but the only option I've got's kind of up close and personal.”

Johnny leaned over the side of the chair and flicked his eyebrows up. “There's worse ways.” Troy coughed, inhaling when he meant to exhale, and Gat backed off with a laugh. “Careful. Shit'll kill you.”

He got up and walked into his bedroom, leaving Troy alone to keep from hacking a lung up. Each motion reminded him of the bruises traveling along his ribs, and he cursed under his breath as he pressed a hand to his eyes.

“Get back here, Gat,” Troy managed, clearing his throat. “If you hand it over I'll get it.”

He wandered back within a minute, his unlit cigarette still dangling from his mouth, and held up a lighter. Johnny flicked it on as he walked towards the fridge and Troy gave an internal sigh of relief.

“Want another?”

The door to the fridge opened and Troy heard the bottles clink together as Johnny reached inside for one. “Sure.”

Gat had a good light on his cigarette by the time he came back, and Troy took the beer without meeting his eye.

“Forgot mine at home. My lighter usually never leaves my pocket.” Troy replied, popping the lid off then holding the bottle to his face. “I would need it tonight.”

Johnny threw himself back into the large armchair, not even bothering to kick his feet up this time. “Tell me something.”

Troy let his eyes drift over to him. “Yeah?”

“You want this to work?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You're going to need some serious hardware. This shit ain't enough.”

Troy took a swig of the beer to wash away the dry feeling in his throat and nodded. “Yeah, I know. Got any suggestions in that area?”

“A few.”

“Like that gift of yours?”

“That's one of them.”

“Might as well share. I don't think I'm going anywhere anytime soon,” Troy said, leaning into the couch again. “Legs aren't working.”

The slow buzz was starting to work its magic, and he took another drink to push it along. He felt ready to doze off as well, which wasn't exactly wise given his environment and current condition, but didn't feel a rush to move. Even within reaching distance of the department's bogeyman.

“Bullshit.”

“Maybe it is, but hit me anyway. We've got time to kill remember?” Troy yawned and grabbed his cigarette before he dropped it. “Just not literally, okay? I think I've had enough of that today.”

Johnny shrugged and exhaled, the smoke coming out in a large cloud. “Fair enough. Let's start at the top.”


	46. As you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny pays a visit to the station. One that's long overdue. Pre-SR2.

The alarm goes off at the same time. Early, far too early for anyone sane to be awake, but he drags himself up and out of bed regardless. It's what he does, what he's supposed to do, but gravity always did its best to persuade him to stay.

Troy wiped his eyes as he sat on the edge, a headache already trying to kick in, and took in a slow breath. Light was just starting to peek through the blinds, and he watched it scatter across the wall.

“ _I don't see how you can do it. Getting up before the damn sun.”_

He held his head in his hands and saw that smile she'd give. The soft one that popped up in quieter moments when she'd relax next to him, and shook it away fast.

“Don't know, V. Wish I did,” he muttered, getting to his feet.

Coffee came first. That was where he started, and by the time he was done he felt like he was standing more on solid ground. The shower helped kick him the rest of the way away as he ran a hand through his hair, and he took a moment to rest his forehead against the tile.

The headache lingered, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the water ran over him. It was the kind that crept up on you and sunk in deep, and the heat did little to help him unwind. He rubbed the back of his neck and imagined another set of hands helping, one applying just the right amount of pressure as another ran down his back.

It wasn't as clear a memory as it used to be, but he could still remember the feel of her nails along his skin. The slow trail they made as he leaned into her, and he shut the shower off before the pang could hit.

He dried off fast, pulling on his clothes and uniform as he went through the rest of his routine. Shirt, pants, belt, badge, the whole nine yards. The shave left him with a nick under his chin as he cleaned up, and he eyed the spot as a dot of red welled up. The sting left him pressing a finger to it as he checked for any other scrapes, and he rinsed the rest of his face off once he'd finished, taking a long look at the mirror.

Troy felt worn, the circles under his eyes reminding him that sleep was the cure for most ills when caffeine wasn't, and felt the corner of his mouth tug down. When he grabbed his tie, he let it sit around his neck for a few minutes, the shirt still half open, and he didn't know what to do with the cop staring back at him.

“Chief,” he corrected. It didn't sound right and he doubted it ever would.

Even with the badge and the uniform. He went through the motions as he knotted the tie, and by the time his hat was on he was exactly what he was supposed to be.

He left the room and didn't bother to check another mirror.

* * *

“I thought we went over this already. There's no trace of the old power structure anymore. We can't keep on searching for ghosts around every corner.”

“They've been here for years,” Troy insisted. “If the Carnales were gone we wouldn't keep on getting scattered reports of dealers trying to run in their old territory. We need people on this. Leaving it alone is only going to make it worse.”

Commissioner Verne sighed and picked up the folder in front of him again. Most of the information in it was old, but the pictures that he glanced over when he opened it were new. “And you believe they're going to rebuild?”

“I wouldn't put it past them. All it takes is one, and why should we give them that chance?”

Verne let the folder drop and pushed it back towards Troy. “It's one problem on a mountain of others.”

“I'm aware of that-”

“And aren't there more pressing matters to take care of? You need to expand your scope, because gangs aren't your only concern anymore. I thought that was clear.”

Troy shut his mouth, but couldn't bite his tongue. “It is, but I know why I'm here.”

“You do?”

Verne's eyebrows went up and Troy cursed himself for the slip, but pushed on. “Stilwater's safer without the gangs, but not if we ignore them again. I've got insights, but I can't use them like this.”

The older man chuckled, and folded his arms on his desk. “Give it time. You're still adjusting, remember?”

 _Adjusting. Right._ Troy frowned and reached for the folder as calmly as possible.

“All things will be dealt with once we're able.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and pulled over another set of papers. “Now, what we should be focusing on right now is the shortage of officers. Focusing on this problem could lead to headway in the other.”

“Yes, sir,” Troy said, with a short nod.

“It's coming together right now, but I would like your input before we move forward.”

There was a sharp knock and the two turned to the door as it cracked open to reveal Verne's secretary. “Sir, there's an important call on hold for you.”

“And?”

“It's the mayor.”

Troy cleared his throat and stood up. “Looks like it's my cue to exit. I've got a few things to check on downstairs as well. We'll be in touch, sir?”

Verne gave him the go ahead, and Troy didn't wait for another reply before slipping out.

He didn't make any stops until he was within sight of his office, pausing only a moment to give Linda a greeting before slamming the door shut behind him.

Pressing a hand to his temples he wandered over to his desk and tossed the folder onto it. He was reaching for the cigarettes in his pocket when another set of knocks made him hesitate.

“It's open,” he said, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“Chief Bradshaw?” It was Linda, and she appeared concerned. “I have a message from the catering company in charge of the fundraiser for next week.”

He tried not to scowl and crossed his arms. “What did they have to say?”

“It wasn't so much as a what, as a question of which. Tuna salad or turkey?”

“Which?” The pressure of the headache ticked back up again as he groaned. “They lost it. Of course they did. At this point I really don't give a-”

Something went off, the sound muffled, but distant. Then another, and by the time the third echoed from outside the alarms kicked on, and he dragged Linda into his office.

“Hey, stay here and don't move, got it?” he said, pulling his gun out. Linda gave him a series of nods, and in return he handed her his keys. “Lock the door and don't let anyone in until you recognize their voice.”

He cracked the door open and darted outside, waiting for it to close before moving on. A few office workers lingered, hiding underneath their desks as Troy kept on going, and he motioned for them to stay put as he went ahead. The sounds increased in frequency as he reached the exit, and when he cracked the door there was no mistaking that sound.

Officers ran down the stairs to the lower level, their guns out, and another shot went off. Troy felt his fingers begin to ache as he kept his handgun close, and when he crept towards the stairs he picked up on the first set of yells.

A cold sweat settled over him as he listened closely and waited.

That when he heard him. Loud, furious, and insistent. Troy froze as Johnny's voice rang out again, this time in a direct challenge.

“Where is he? _Where the fuck is he?_ ” Another shot went off, and Troy felt his stomach drop out. “You know why I'm here! Get out of my fucking way!”

He'd seen this play out so many times and in so many different ways in his dreams. The end never changed – Johnny found his mark and sometimes Troy let him – but he'd almost let it go. Believed maybe it didn't have to end this way after all.

“So that's what you're doing? Hiding behind them?”

The yelling increased in volume as he heard a struggle break out, and Troy snapped himself out of it as he made his way down the stairs.

The officers posted at the bottom held up a hand when they saw him, but Troy wasn't watching them. He was glancing ahead at the bodies left scattered in the hall, and the cracked glass. He reached the group struggling to wrestle Gat to the ground, and held his breath as he waited for one side to overtake the other. It took four to get him to stay in place, and another to finally get him to hit the floor.

Troy had to wrench his eyes away from the sight as he continued down, and when the others tried to hold him back he shoved against them. That's when Johnny stopped struggling, and when Troy took his first step towards him he felt pinned to the spot. The cracked glasses on Gat's face couldn't hide a thing if they tried.

One of the officers caught up to Troy, nudging him when it became clear that none of it was registering. “Repeat that.”

“You shouldn't be down here, sir. He's secure, but he's...”

“I know,” Troy replied, unable to look away.

Johnny snarled as they dragged him up and forced him to stand. “What don't you fucking know?”

Troy searched for something to say as the cop beside him – Anderson, he recalled now that their face was registering – drew her weapon. “Stand down.”

“Get fucked,” Johnny said, pulling them forward with him.

“Stand down!”

The gun went up and Troy grabbed for it, angling it away from the group in front of them as it went off. He twisted back, the handgun still in Anderson's grip, and had a moment to remember that giving your back to someone was a gesture of trust.

Leaving it open to someone who used to trust you was another thing entirely.

The shot went off, and he knew he'd earned it.

* * *

In all his life he'd never actually taken a bullet. He'd been grazed by some, and dodged more than enough to fill his clothes full of holes, but hadn't been unlucky enough to get tagged.

Waking up in the hospital later he made a mental note to scratch that off of his non-existent bucket list, and tensed as he felt the first wave of pain come on. It hadn't nicked anything vital when the bullet had hit his left arm, but the higher shot had tried to go for it, coming all too close to hitting the bone.

 _And his heart_ , he mused, but that was already obvious.

It didn't take long for them to get him patched up and out of there, but his arm wasn't going to be much help in the following weeks until it mended. Movement was supposed to be kept to a minimum, and when he shifted it experimentally a day after leaving the hospital he'd instantly regretted it.

He was also regretting it now, but the cold room wasn't meant to be comfortable, and with Johnny on the other end of the table Troy knew he wasn't supposed to be either. It'd been over a week since Troy had seen him, but the bruises covering him were fresh. Some were likely earned on the way to the cramped interrogation room, and Troy felt his arm ache in response.

“You want to start this or should I?” Troy asked, his tone tentative.

Johnny tilted his head away, and his eyes traveled over him briefly before settling on the wall. His wrists and ankles were chained together, his hands linked behind him to the chair in turn, and Troy wondered how well any of it would hold.

“Guess that's a no. I'm not surprised.”

Gat's cheek twitched as he remained silent, and Troy waited a beat for carrying on.

“Do you know where they want to send you?” Johnny kept on staring at the wall opposite him and Troy continued. “Death Row. They want to give you a one-way ticket there. Not surprising considering what happened.”

He shrugged, the chain between his hands clanking against the back of his chair.

“Not even going to argue with that?”

“I'm in the middle of a blueberry delight. You can say whatever the fuck you want, Chief.”

Troy had been tapping his fingers against the metal, but laid his hand flat after that. “That's not how it works.”

“It isn't?” Johnny turned and leveled his gaze at him. “Thought that was the only way it worked with you.”

“No. Never was.”

“So, you weren't playing both sides. Not at all.” Johnny tilted his head a fraction. “Not with those calls, or moments where you had to be somewhere else, don't even try to fucking deny it.”

Troy didn't try. “I had my reasons.”

“Right,” Gat said with a sneer. “You did.”

“But that doesn't change why I did what I did.”

“Ah. Which was?”

“The Row couldn't go on like that. Not with any of the others running it, and not with us.”

“Why the fuck not? We had a grip on it! Julius knew exactly what he was doing-”

“No, he didn't,” Troy cut in, tensing. “He knew what he wanted, but he didn't give a damn thought to any of you. Not a single one. Not Lin, not you or Dex, and sure as hell not V.”

The chains holding him to the chair went taut as Johnny pulled forward, and Troy gripped the table. “You don't get to talk about her.”

Lin flashed through his mind, a cigarette between her fingers as she lit it, and Troy tried not to recall the shape of her car when they had found it. “That's not for me, is it?”

“Not when you twist the knife and expect me to like it.”

Troy flexed his fingers and held them above the table, eventually resuming more tapping.

“And you worked your way through every last one of us. New blood, old, it was all the fucking same to you. What you wanted was someone to talk, and yeah, you've got an eye. You went for the best fucking one.”

The tapping stopped.

“I get it.” Johnny tilted his head and closed his eyes. “V's not hard to figure out. She wanted your eye. Worked for it. Decent pair of tits, nice legs. Probably not bad at sucking cock either once you could get her to shut up.” He paused and shrugged. “Probably. She talked all day and talked all night. Who wouldn't try?”

Troy didn't move or blink. Just slowly felt his hand clench into a fist.

“You had her going too.” Gat opened his eyes and clucked his tongue. “Easy. Not as fun when it's not a challenge, but sometimes you can't be picky.”

“Stop.” Troy's voice was quiet as he leaned forward on the desk. “I wanted to help you.”

“Well, look where we are now, eh? Julius is who knows fucking where, V's six feet under, and you're here, trying to play at something that died a long time ago. You want to help me?” Johnny asked, leaning forward as well. “Cut me loose.”

“Johnny-”

“Don't you fucking dare!” he yelled. “You are not one of us! You don't get to look at us or talk to us like a few fucking words can fix everything. Like any of that shit would actually mean something coming from you.”

“I did.” _It did._

“You didn't do a motherfucking thing.”

Gat spat at him, and Troy felt his teeth strain under the pressure of his jaw.

“You want to know what she said?”

 _No._ Troy canted his head and wiped his face.

“He'll be there. He'll fucking be there, because that's what he does.”

He could imagine the fight they had. How V had to have pushed while Johnny pushed back. “And you believed her?”

Johnny's mouth became a thin line.

“I wanted you to walk. Both of you. Talked to Julius about it and had every avenue covered.”

“After what? Losing everything? Go fuck yourself.”

“You were both free to go. No one would've laid a hand on you.”

“And like any motherfucking pig would've let us go. Did you really think any of that would change with you up front? Feeding us your fancy lines about how it doesn't have to end this way?”

“Because this was the better option?” Troy asked, gritting his teeth. “Coming here and pissing it all away?”

Gat's mouth twitched as he sat back. “It'd take care of you.”

Troy felt his lungs burn as he held onto the breath there, and let it out in a short laugh. “Sure. It'd do that. And after?”

“Didn't matter.”

“It didn't...matter.” Troy's knuckles had gone white as he clenched them, and when Johnny's stare didn't waver he felt his grip tighten. “Say that again.”

Johnny raised his chin, and the only thing Troy could hear when he stood was the sound of his chair screeching against the floor.

“Knowing what you have, you'd throw that all away for this. One clear shot.” Gat watched him move, his steps slow and steady as he came within range, but not close enough. “One chance to set things right?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” he said.

Troy's upper arm throbbed, the sensation picking up, and he resisted the urge to put his hand over it. “Well, you're a piss-poor shot when it counts.”

“Won't miss again,” Gat replied, his voice dropping low.

The ache running through his arm hit hard, but Troy didn't flinch. “I know.”

Still, he'd walked in with a gun on his person. The weight of it on him grew heavier with each movement, and when Johnny's eyes had skimmed it earlier Troy had felt his fingers twitch.

“So why haven't you left yet?”

“Hell if I know,” Troy admitted, wetting his lips. “They told me not to come in here.”

“Can't imagine why.”

“Thought I owed you more than that.” Troy felt his fingers twitch again, but let his cigarettes stay in his pocket. “Something closer to the-”

“What's another fucking drop? We're done.”

 _Truth._ Troy let the word die, and it was bitter all the way through. “...We are, aren't we?”

He took a step back, then two. When he turned, he heard Johnny shift. The metal of the chair strained, and a laugh followed it, hollow and nothing like the person doing it.

“You weren't going to tell her, were you?”

Troy stopped dead in his tracks.

“About any of it? You were going to lie to her up until the last fucking minute.”

He felt his mouth open, but couldn't get the words out. “I was.”

“When?”

“I was going to tell both of you.”

“Right. When it wasn't your neck on the line anymore. I get it.”

He pivoted, and Johnny laughed again. “You do.”

“Yeah, I do.” Johnny smiled, every inch of it unsettling.“And you're lucky she'll never get a chance to find out.”

Troy took that last step, and Johnny collided with him. His head flew into his face, sending him into the table and by the time he reached the floor he couldn't see past the pain running through him.

He heard clanking in the background, yelling, and when he blinked, he saw only the dull white ceiling above. A few people surrounded him soon after, their mouths moving fast, but he didn't pay any mind to them. Only pushed himself up with his good arm as blood ran down his face, just as an officer cracked Johnny across his with their nightstick.

Something came out of his mouth. Troy tried to say it again, but felt himself pitch to the side when someone grabbed his arm. He couldn't push them off. Everything hurt as his head swam.

He waited for the shot again. Waited for it.

It didn't come.


	47. Maybe it would

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between SR3 and IV. Troy gets a call. V's got a few things to share.

Troy got the call at the tail end of his workday. It was one of the longest shifts he’d had in a while, and he’d lost track of how many times he’d gone over the same sentence on the report in front of him. Three hours of sleep had left him practically hooked up to an IV line filled with coffee, so when his phone started ringing he jolted in his seat.

He pushed the papers to the side, sick of looking at any of them, and rubbed his eyes as his brain put things back in order. Yawning, he pulled it out of his pocket with the intention of letting it go only to see a familiar number on the screen.

It had been weeks since he’d heard from her, leaving him staring at the phone as it kept on ringing. Steelport hadn’t been easy going for the Saints to begin with, but work there had put more and more space between her visits.

Though what bothered him more was the fact that her trips to Stilwater had become the visits. Not the other way around.

A part of him understood why this had become the case. Half the city was covered in ads and memorials to the late Johnny Gat, but he’d gotten used to having two people in his apartment. Not just one. Having the extra space again hadn’t been welcome at all, not when he still found signs of her presence scattered all over the place.

Common sense kicked in before the call went to voicemail, and he swallowed the lump in his throat as he answered. “Hey. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“ _It’s been bad over here. If it’s not the media, it’s dealing with Ultor’s liaison, and if it’s not Ultor, then it’s local law enforcement.”_ She sighed, sounding tired, worn, or both, and he wished he could see her face. _“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss your people. They knew how to treat a Saint right.”_

“That’s one way of putting it,” he said with a chuckle. “Judging from the number of calendars I’ve seen around here I think they’re fond of you too.”

“ _Oh. They’re fans of October?”_

“It’s a fine month. Some go more for summer, but I’ve always been a fall kind of guy. The red’s hard to resist.”

That got him a small laugh, and he finally relaxed. _“Good, considering I’m a bit fond of Silwater PD’s Chief. I was wondering if he’d mind me dropping by sometime soon.”_

“He wouldn’t. Got a day in mind?”

“ _Tuesday of next week. I won’t be able to stay more than a few days, but I’d like to see you if I can.”_

“Definitely. Give me a call when you get in and I’ll make the time.”

“ _See you soon, Chief.”_

* * *

The rest of the week bled into itself as he goes through the usual steps. Thursday and Friday were almost indistinguishable from the other, and the weekend was an exercise in how much red tape Ultor loved to wrap around their press events. Monday picked him back up, but Tuesday hit and flew right on by.

He’d been perfectly aware of the date, but had reminded himself that he wasn’t the only person she saw when she visited. Business was business, and he tried not to scowl when the hint of disappointment refused to go away.

It was in the middle of the afternoon on Wednesday that he considered calling. He’d sent a text off the day before, but hadn’t heard anything back. Not one word, and when worry started to mix with the other emotions running through him he couldn’t shake it.

Early evening came – along with his third cigarette – and he dialed her number.

“ _Hey, can’t exactly pick up the phone right now, but I would if I could. Leave a message and we’ll work something out.”_

He lowered the phone and tapped his fingers on his knee. A buzz made his eyes go back to the screen, however. A message.

_Sorry. Later tonight?_

He sent his response as soon the message registered. _Sure._

_You’re the best. I’ll be in touch._

He held his breath and sighed before taking a long drag off of his cigarette.

Sure enough, when it was dark and he was ready to start calling it a day he felt his phone buzz again. A smile crept onto his face as he got his phone out to check, but it quickly turned into a frown when he saw what it said.

_Meet me by the river._

* * *

Troy knew the spot. It’d been years since he’d passed it, but couldn’t forget it even if he’d wanted to. Construction had done a number on the surrounding area, but he retraced his steps well enough. He parked in a nearby lot and walked, the street lights guiding him along as he searched for any sign of red.

The flash of his lighter dimmed when he held it up, cupping a hand around it to keep the breeze out. It took a bit longer for the cigarette to light, but when it did he took a decent puff of it and let himself drift closer to the edge of the water.

He put a hand on the rail and leaned over enough to watch the water. Small waves ran along the surface as it flowed, and he couldn’t see any sign of what rested below it. It made him pull back before long; a chill running down his back as he recalled two other instances where the water had been just as black.

Glancing over to this right, he exhaled and noticed someone leaning against the rails further down. The lights hinted at red, and he blinked a few times to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

The figure didn’t move, and when he took an experimental step forward the red remained.

Putting out his cigarette with the heel of his shoe, he walked over, aware of the sound of his footfalls on the pavement. They seemed so much louder without the cars and the city to dull them.

The red leather jacket made him hold his breath until the purple fleur emblazoned on the back convinced him to release it. She took a drag from the cigarette in her hand as she leaned against the rail, her weight on one of her legs while the other tapped the toe of her boot against the ground.

“V?”

If she hadn’t noticed him before, she did now, her head turning a hair towards him. “Hey.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

She turned towards him more and flicked the ashes off of her cig. “Sorry. I really didn’t mean to bail on you like that.”

“It’s fine,” he said with complete honesty. “You get busy. Lord knows how I manage to get home and stay home long enough to sleep some days.”

When he reached the rail beside her she was looking out over the water again, her expression drawn and worn in a way he was all too familiar with. That didn’t make it right to see on her, however.

“I was a little surprised,” he admitted.

“By?”

“Your message.” He almost asked why here, but he knew damn well why. What he wasn’t clear on was why now? Today wasn’t even close to that date on the calendar, but sometimes it didn’t need to be. “Something on your mind?”

“I-” V’s words trailed off, and the tip of her cigarette glowed as she inhaled slowly. The exhale came through her nose, and her shoulders slumped forward as she wrapped an arm around herself. “Yeah.”

“You want to-”

"Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you…?"

He thought he heard her wrong at first. Couldn’t comprehend it. Believe it. He felt his chest tighten as she kept on staring out at the city’s skyline, and when she didn’t say anything to contradict it it finally sank in.

“Like…things would’ve been that much simpler. Easier if I hadn’t woken up, been here, or anywhere at all.” She flicked the cigarette in her hand off of the side of the ledge and watched it fall into the water. “Happier even.”

Her eyes drifted to his and he felt his throat close up.

“It’s something that’s popped up, and kinda been kicked around. Some days I can’t stop thinking about it. What could’ve been.” She mouthed the names, not stating any of them out loud and he knew every one. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot, actually.”

“What ifs?”

“What should’ve beens. For all of them. They…they really did deserve better you know?”

_Better than you?_

The question hung in the air between them, the thin thread holding it pulled tight enough to snap, and he didn’t want it there. Not that, or the look in her eyes.

“Johnny did too.” The sentence slipped out, and she looked away. “That idiot thought he could handle everything. Probably would’ve taken a tank shell to the chest from those STAG motherfuckers before long.”

“And would’ve shrugged it off like everything else. Isn’t that what he does?”

“Yeah. He would’ve tried at least. ” V started chewing on her lip, her eyes staring out over the water, and he nearly missed the tremor. “He never said no. He wanted to shut me down when we pitched that idea, I could see it written all over him, but he never did. Funny how of all the things he refused to do that would be the one that kills him.”

“It’s not your fault. He would’ve been the first to tell you that.”

“You know, that’s got to be at least the fourth time I’ve heard something like that from you. That doesn’t make it true or right.”

“And wishing you were dead is better?” She went silent and he worked hard to keep his emotions in check. “I’ve had you almost die on me once already, and that’s not counting the time you nearly bled to death in my goddamned passenger seat. That’s one time too many, and if you’re looking for someone to judge you I’m hardly qualified.”

“Because you’re just as fucked as me, eh?” She chuckled at the flat look he pointed at her, and ran her fingers up his arm, tracing the line of his coat. “Maybe you are, Chief. Still, you deserve it too.”

“What?”

“Better.” V smoothed her hand over his coat, tugging at the lapels, and refused to meet his eye again. “How many what ifs are we going to have to play through before one sticks?”

_Better._ He repeated the word three more times, but it refused to register. “None.”

“The car. The goddamn car.” He tried to catch her hand, but she pulled it back. “That was on me.”

“Do I recall you saying half of the shit I did to put me in that spot?”

“No, but-”

“Then let me shoulder the blame a bit,” Troy insisted. “I’ve earned it. I’ve earned a whole fucking lot of it.”

She stood up, both of her gloved hands gripping the railing, and he watched her fingers flex as they held onto it. “Troy. Just…stop. Please.”

“Do I think the world would’ve been better off? You want my honest answer?”

She started to cut around him and he held an arm out to intercept her. The shove she aimed at it gave her an opening until he stepped directly into her path. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

“No.”

He wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was panic or irritation, but when her lips curled enough to show her teeth he knew he’d lit a match. “Troy. Move.”

“No.” The next shove should’ve put him on his ass, but he stayed up, holding onto her shoulders as she did her best to shake him. When he gently took her face in his hands, however, it all came to an abrupt stop. “The answer’s no. Want to know why?”

Her eyes blinked fast, a furious scowl still etched into her features, and she swore under her breath as tears started to gather. “Why?”

“Because when I look at you, you know what I see? You. I don’t see the things you’ve done. I see you. Warm, gorgeous, and the most stubborn woman anyone could ever meet.”

He brushed the strands of hair stuck to her cheeks to the side, curling them behind her ear. “Somehow you picked my life to stumble into, but the minute you did I gained something important. Someone with a good heart. That has trouble standing still. That puts a grin on my face on the turn of a dime even when she’s driving me up a wall. That means well and does well.”

“Shut up.”

“No.”

“Shut the hell up, because I’ve tried that. To do right, but I’m starting to wonder if that’s for other people. I say I want to fix one thing and the first thing I do is break another.”

“You’re human. This is not something you’re going to get right on the first try. Probably not the second either. You’re not your failures. You’re not your mistakes. You want to do better, I get that, but you’re not the colossal fuck up you think you are. You never were.”

“Not even when I keep on fucking things up even more? When I try to help and all I do is-” She bit off the sentence and her anger crumpled. Wrapping her fingers around his wrists, she clutched them tight, her nails short of digging right into his skin.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut.

“All of you, inside and out.”

Her laugh was watery, and she coughed halfway through it. “Every last little bit, eh?”

“Yep.”

“Even the ugly shit?”

“I know you don’t always think so, but there’s a good person in there. She’s one of the most ridiculous people I’ve ever met, but every moment she spends with me I’m fucking grateful for.”

“Even if she’s wrecked your last three cars and nearly strangled you with reports?”

“Those keep me going. You think I like looking at half of the legal papers Ultor throws at me? I’m tempted to ask you to make a whole day of these.”

“I could always pay you a visit at work. Make the stiffs sweat more.”

“You could.” She smiled in response, something crooked, but present. “Though I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine myself. They’re pretty ruffled to begin with.”

“What’s a little more?”

He could hear it coming through now, that playful hint that he adored. “Not enough. That’s my V.”

“You…know you don’t need to keep on calling me that, right?” She blinked up at him, her eyeliner too stubborn to run, and her eyes seemed much darker than he remembered.

“I know.”

“So, it’s okay. You don’t have to hold onto it or keep it safe.”

Troy ran a thumb over her cheek and let his hands come down to rest on her shoulders. “Sorry, old habit.” Pulling her closer, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“It’s nice. To actually hear it.”

He whispered it, his lips grazing her ear and she hugged him tighter. “Like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I should say it again,” he said, his fingers slipping under her jacket to rub a slow circle on her lower back. “Wouldn’t hurt, eh?”

She shook her head, and he heard her sniffle as she tried to get her breathing in line. “Guess being around’s worth one thing.”

“What?”

“You.” He felt her kiss the side of his neck, the light touch almost a tickle. “Should’ve died in that alley that night, but you just couldn’t help it, could you? Had to be a big damn hero.”

“And show off for the lady? Sure, why not?” he replied, glad that his instincts had been on point.

His decision had been made in a matter of seconds, sirens on one end and disaster on the other, and he’d ran. He’d ran and fired as soon as the shot appeared clear, and hadn’t even had the time to judge whether or not it’d been a bad call. It was only after when he’d seen her stare up at him, shellshocked and stunned, but alive, that he’d felt relief.

“What’s my tally up to now, Chief?” she asked, her hands pressed flat against his back.

“Haven’t checked lately. Could be pretty high.”

“Someday we need to get a number down, because I’ve gotta pay off my debts somehow. Sound good to you?”

The kiss he gave her told her exactly what he thought of that.


	48. Show me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done for a NSFW prompt - convincing the other to try something they’re not interested in and then making them like it, and after the last couple of sad entries a change of pace to something lighter was a good idea. Takes place post-SRIV (but before Take Two) with V and Johnny testing things out.

This was what she remembered. Not the city that blinked and buzzed, each step recorded and documented for later use. This was Steelport, and V had to take a minute to soak that in as she stood in the middle of their old headquarters.

 _Old. Shit, has it been that long?_ She placed her hands on her hips and swept her eyes over the place, taking in every inch.

Nothing was out of place except for the people, but she wasn’t about to talk to Matt and Kinzie about the science behind that. They had used an exploit – one of many, she was starting to figure out – and they had found themselves the brand new owners of a Saints crib unpopulated by their doubles.

To say that she’d been relived was an understatement, but having another isolated instance where they’d fucked with time didn’t exactly sit right. Still, it was nice in a way. She’d always wanted to introduce Johnny to the other side of their little empire, and right now she couldn’t think of a better time.

And there was always more time to go over all that scientific bullshit later. Hell, they had all the time in the world now with the Zin and their machine at their disposal, but there were moments when that feeling would come and go. That sensation of being in a place where you should’ve belonged, but didn’t.

It pricked at the edge of her senses as she walked inside, but when she heard the familiar rise and fall of the bass and the playful laughter that came from her people, she relaxed. This wasn’t home, but it was close enough. After all of this time it had reached that place, and seeing it again like this proved it.

Johnny whistled when he came to stand beside her, and V quirked her mouth up. “Not bad, eh?”

“It’s no Purgatory, but it’ll do. What’s with the statue, though?”

“Oh, that’s Phillipe’s. Pierce did ask me if I ever wanted it gone, but I couldn’t get rid of it.” Framing it with her hands, she sighed. “I mean, it’s such a perfect reminder of who we fucked over to get this. Every time I walk in it’s there to welcome me.”

He chuckled. “I can see that. Little reminder like that after the tower can’t hurt.”

“It’s not my lady, though. I really should’ve found a place to put her up. Not much of a hideout without the Saint of Saints watching over it.”

V gave a small salute to the group of Saints gathered by the television when they raised their beers, and proceeded upstairs. Johnny stuck close, but paused on the staircase to glance behind him. The group at the bottom had dragged over one of the coffee tables to get a round of body shots in, and she made sure to give them a loud, appreciative whistle before continuing to head up.

“Decided to go light on the purple?” he asked when they reached the top.

“A little. Just to break it up a bit. You can only slap so much around before it feels like someone’s spewed grape kool aid everywhere.” Gat raised an eyebrow and she folded her hands behind her head. “Besides, some places I saved more purple for than others.”

“Like?”

“What? You think I’m going to spill my guts that easily?” She waggled her eyebrows. “You’re going to have to work a bit harder than that, Johnny.”

“You went straight for the stairs, so I’m thinking we’re close,” he pointed out, keeping his eyes on her as she cut into the nearest room. “But unless you’re hiding it all in your closet, I’m still not seeing much.”

“My closet? Why there?”

“Because I can’t think of you hiding purple anywhere else. Sure there’s a hell of a lot of red, but purple’s there. You’ve got your ways.”

He wasn’t wrong. “The purple I’m talking about is a little more out in the open. Won’t have to search much.”

The next room had him grinning. The rich purple sheets and the scattered ceramic and glass ashtrays on the nightstands and drawers were a dead giveaway. “When it you put it that way it’s not much of a guess.”

“No?”

She didn’t stop there, however, just turned and wandered backwards into the large bathroom bordering her room. The distinct sound of a door closing followed, and she gave him a coy look when he leaned against the door frame, chin up, jacket open, and his shades dark. “No.”

V had to take a moment to remember what they’d been going on about, because he looked way too damn good there for her to keep her focus for long. “I did actually mean to show off my room without luring you in here.”

“Right.”

She shrugged and started to pull off one of her fingerless gloves. “I just walked in.” When it slipped off she tossed it over her shoulder. “You’re the one with expectations.”

His eyebrows went up and down and she chucked her second glove at him. “You’re the one throwing your clothes at me.”

“Now you’re projecting,” she teased, running her fingers over the zipper of her jacket. “I’m not making this into a show.”

He took a few steps forward. “Even if I ask?”

“Nope. In fact, I think you owe me one.”

He took another and she started backing up. “A show?”

“A long one. Shirt, shoes, the whole she-bang,” she said, ticking each off of her fingers. “It’s only fair.”

“None of this is coming off without help.”

V let a little swing move into her hips and lifted her hand to beckon him forward. “Come a little closer and I’ll see what I can do.”

He took his time, almost turning his movements into a swagger, and once he was close enough she looped a finger around the top button of his shirt. Tugging on it brought him closer, and she flicked at it with her thumbnail.

All it would’ve taken was one quick motion to undo it. Simple enough, but now that he was near another idea kicked in. One that had her lifting her boot up to pull her knife out before she could change her mind.

She tugged again, waiting for Johnny to say something, but all he gave her was a smile. One that wasn’t smug, but dared her to take the first swipe.

So she did. The button bounced off of the floor, and she slid her hand down to the next in line.

“It’s going to go like that?” he asked, taking in a breath when her nails grazed him.

“If I’m going button by button. The other way takes too long.”

He laughed. “Still fucking impatient.”

“It’s also payback for the suit.” Another button flew off and she leaned forward to kiss the new inch of skin revealed to her. “And the underwear. The last pair was expensive.”

Her tongue darted out, and his hand tangled in the hair behind her head, his grip tightening when she blew across the trail. “This shirt wasn’t cheap either.”

“I’ve been wanting to cut it off of you for years now. So sue me.”

He’d always looked amazing in it; the damn tailoring only served to remind her that his shoulders were the kind that were meant to climbed, and the way the fabric hugged him from his chest to his waist was fucking criminal. For all that she’d loved purple silk, she’d quickly become a fan of white, but maybe once or twice she’d let herself think that she’d be doing the world a fine service by relieving him of it.

But only once or twice.

 _Yeah. Sure,_ V told herself, removing another button. _It was all about doing the world a service. Absolutely._

She ran her tongue down his stomach, pausing here and there to see if she could get that same intake of breath as she blew, and when she reached his belt she hooked it with a finger as she knelt down. Tugging on it, she slid it out of the loops, nipping at the skin above the band, and flicked the button on his jeans open.

The zipper stayed up, however, as her finger traced over the denim in a careful line. Her mouth followed that line, the rough texture making her miss the glide of his skin, and she withdrew when she felt him start to press against her. As much as she wanted to taste him, she wasn’t about to make this easy.

He was hard, had been since she’d brushed her fingers over him, and she glanced up at him through her lashes. “Now who’s impatient?”

Not saying a word through his clenched teeth, he relaxed and watched her slide the knife back into her boot.

Clucking her tongue, she leaned back and chewed on her lip. Tall men and women had always done a number on her, and the angle at which she was drinking him in wasn’t bad at all.  “Don’t worry. I think I’ll get these off the good old fashioned way.”

“I wasn’t,” Johnny murmured, twirling some of her hair around his fingers.

“I guess I could get you off too, but I’m running a little dry on ideas right now…”

She let her lips graze the denim again and the hand in her hair went tight. Tugging her back up to her feet he met her in a kiss that had her staggering backwards. The counter hit her back as her lip was caught between his teeth, and he sucked on it hard before sliding his tongue into her mouth.

Her hands went to the counter, grasping for the edge as he lifted her up and onto it, his hips pushing up and against her at a rhythm that had her grinding back just as desperately. The hold he had on her as he thrusted was solid, pulling a sharp gasp with each movement that ended in a whimper. His breath ragged, he tore his mouth away from hers to move down her throat, sucking long enough on each spot for her to hiss whenever he left her skin.

The last down by her collarbone had her digging her heels into his lower back, and in return she felt the rasp of his teeth as he withdrew to put some distance between them. “You’ve got to lose the fucking coat.”

She held her arms out to her sides. “Well?”

The glasses caught the light as his chin tilted up, and he let out a short laugh. “Well, what?”

“Your boss needs your assistance, stat. It’s kinda urgent.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I want to see how long you can handle this.” The low chuckle made her legs tense around him and he planted both of his hands on each side of her. “How much you want it.”

When he leaned in only a dwindling inch was between them, one that came and went as she swayed in and out of range of him. He moved with her, close, but not close enough, and when he tried to touch her she raised a hand to stop him. “Takes two to play, Gat.”

His lips pressed against her fingers. “Oh?”

“I’m not playing alone. You want the jacket to come off?” She tapped the side of his glasses. “These do too.”

“That all?” he asked, hovering close again.

“The shirt too.” The fact that it was hanging off of him even now drove her up a wall, but not as much as the peek at what was under it did. “That’s got to come off on principle.”

Reaching up to him, she slid the glasses off of his face with as much care as she possessed, letting him wink at her over the frames before removing them. But once that was done, and she placed them off to the side, she saw what she guessed had been under there from the start. Intent. The kind that made her wonder how much longer she had before he’d bend her over the sink, yank her jeans down, and bury himself inside of her.

Leaning back on her hands, she tapped her nails on the counter. “Your turn.”

His eyes narrowed, and she felt her breath catch as he took the zipper and jerked it down. It didn’t break – a small miracle if she ever did see one – and sat up to slip it off of her shoulders. That put her directly in his space again, and he tilted his head to the side as she tugged one sleeve off, then two.

The red jacket went off to their left, and she reached forward to tuck her fingers under the edges of his shirt. It was an easy slide, over his shoulders and down his arms, and when her hands brushed his he didn’t bother to help. Just held her eyes as she pressed flush against him.

One sleeve came off and her nose grazed his. Then the other, and his lips touched hers, making her pull back.

“Uh, uh,” V tutted, wagging a finger. “I still have something that needs help-”

Pulling her off of the counter by her beltloops, she squealed as she latched onto him then dropped her feet to the floor. He spun her around after that, leaving her staring at her stunned expression in the large mirror before yanking her gray T-shirt up and off. It caught on her elbows briefly as her arms swept up, leaving her sputtering as Johnny used another pull to remove it.

When she once again was able to see, he placed his chin on her shoulder and tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t lose the playful hint there. There were no tinted lenses to hide it now. “So, boss.”

She flicked her eyes towards his in the mirror. “Johnny.”

“Coming here’s reminded me of something. We don’t have many of these back on the ship.”

“No,” she replied, shivering at how warm he felt behind her. “We don’t.”

“Something I love, have for a while, is how you react to things. It’s never small. Usually moves through every part of you, starting with these.” His hand reached around to brush his index finger along her lips, and she bit down on them reflexively. “You start thinking, and you’re biting these all day. Don’t even notice, do you?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she saw the color rise. “That’s the joy of a nervous habit. I chew them all to hell.”

“Not all the time.”

“Okay, fine. I pout too. Happy?”

He touched them again, and she kissed his fingertips, torn between watching him touch her and watching him react to her. “Heh, true that, but that’s not all they do. That’s not all you do either.”

His hand left her mouth to trace a finger down the side of her neck, and she jumped. “Hey, not fair, man!” she laughed.

“I want to show you.”

It took a moment for her to regain her breath, and another for her to meet the dark eyes set on her. “Show me?”

“Yeah. Give you an idea of what I get to see.”

“I’m an awkward ass enough of the time, Gat. Do I really need to see all of that up close?”

He leaned forward to kiss the dip in her shoulder, and when he teased the spot with his teeth she let out a sigh. “What about that?”

Her eyes had slipped shut, but she opened them again at his words. Her lips were parted, her skin flushed a deeper shade than before, and she went darker as he met her gaze directly. “This?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Um, I don’t know.” Her mouth went dry as his hands came to rest on her hips, but she grinned when he slid them into her pockets. “It’s something.”

“Something good or something bad?”

“It’s not bad, it’s just not my usual thing,” she admitted, covering his hands with hers. “I get a little too into closing my eyes and enjoying the ride, you know?”

“Same, though there’s something about watching a beautiful woman moan around your cock while she’s kneeling in front of you. Or maybe she’s like this, red all over.” He withdrew one of his hands and traced a finger down her shoulder to her arm. “And waiting for me to see how wet she’s been for the last half-hour.”

His palm was warm on her back as he continued touching her, and she didn’t let her eyes leave his. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? Two fingers worth?”

Her earlier thought played back, and she let herself imagine that same hand between her legs, moving quick enough to make every breath a harsh moan. “Maybe.”

His fingers dipped below the waistband of her jeans. “You want me to?”

They trailed at the edge of her underwear, tickling enough to raise goosebumps, and she angled her hips back to press against him.

“V?”

She pressed harder, and when she saw the muscle in his neck flex, she couldn’t help the smile that crept up. “I think I do.”

Reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, she felt him skate his hand up her back towards the fastenings of her bra. It took a few flicks of his wrist, but it came undone. She held out her arms again, this time in front of her, but he didn’t waste any time teasing, choosing instead to slip the obnoxiously bright purple thing down her arms. The glint in his eye didn’t disappoint, however, when he attempted to slingshot it towards the other side of the bathroom.

“Cute,” she joked, trying not to laugh, but jumped when his palms covered her breasts. Warm and rough from use, she saw herself arch into his touch and chuckled.

“What?” he asked, his mouth right next to her ear.

“I feel a little ridiculous. Like we’re watching a sex tape.”

Johnny grinned. “Thought that was already out.”

“The porno was. Please don’t tell me I have to go through that again-”

“But a tape isn’t?”

He was giving her a curious look now, and V wondered if she would ever stop resembling a fucking tomato. “Hey, one thing at a time. Don’t skip too far ahead of me.”

“I won’t.” He rubbed his thumbs across her nipples, and she bit her lip when each was given a pinch. “I’m pretty down with starting with this.”

The kneading motion he’d stuck with had her sighing in no time, each gentle squeeze accompanied by the flick of his tongue against her earlobe. The urge to let her eyes close to focus on the sensation kept on wanting to kick in, but she forced them to stay open and fixed on him though the mirror.

It was painfully easy to tell when she was turned on. Blushing, gasping, stammering, she did it all until she was left with nothing but swearing as her form of communication. Johnny’s tells were harder to note, but two always stood out. The curve of his mouth, and his breathing, which picked up whenever he drew a sound out of her. His eyes were the third, and with the way he kept on watching her she knew exactly why he kept them covered at all times.

Both of his hands went to the button on her jeans at the same time, his fingers running right between the fabric and her skin, and he lowered the zipper enough for him to dip a hand under it. The tight fit didn’t give him much room, but when she felt a finger curve and press against her he didn’t need it.

Her low moan made his eyes light up, and he added another finger as they slid over her underwear but not around it. The slow pressure made her move her hips with him, grinding back as well as down, and he took in a sharp breath and stepped away.

Hooking his thumbs in her pockets, he dragged her jeans down as far as possible, stopping right at her boots before crouching down beside her. He unlaced them in record time as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her legs, skirting the edge of the dragon winding down her thigh and over her knee, and slapped at her other leg to get her to raise it. One boot, then two hit the floor, and he planted one last kiss to her knee as he pulled her pants off.

Then he took his place again behind her, grabbing her ass and slipping a hand down the front of her underwear before the objection could leave her throat. And she grabbed him then. Grabbed his hips and his thighs as he went as deep as he could, her nails scraping against him.

“There we are,” Gat said, sucking on her earlobe and her jaw as she gasped. “And that’s only one. You’re soaked.”

She tried to turn her head to kiss him, but he ducked away.

“Can’t watch if you’re doing that. Look at me.” V’s eyes were already on him, but she took in another breath and felt it catch when he trailed his fingers up and across her clit. “Through there,” he said, jerking his head towards the mirror.

Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to focus on the motion of his hand.  The hand curled around her paired with the slide that came with each dip in and out, and the way his forearm flexed and moved, but found him in the mirror again. He was fascinated, eager as he teased her until she was shaking, and she felt her body tense.

“Look at me,” he told her again, holding onto her gaze, and she tried. Tried until she couldn’t keep her voice in check, and felt her eyes squeeze shut.

They rode it out, her arms trying to grab at him while he held her, and when she felt herself start to come down he withdrew. The space left her swaying on unsteady feet, but he wasn’t gone long, and before she could say anything she saw the glint of her knife in the mirror.

Two quick slices and a tug left her naked short of the socks on her feet, and she placed her hands on the counter while glaring at him over her shoulder. “Really?”

“One for one.”

He tossed the knife into the air before aiming it at one of the walls, and V felt deja vu try to kick in. It fizzled out when she heard the sound of a zipper, and the crinkle of a packet, and when he pushed into her, hot and hard, she let the rest of her thoughts go.

Just focused on the way Johnny’s fingers held onto her tight, and the quick slide that had his chest slapping against her back. The sound of his voice as he told her how good she felt around him. How he never could wait long to fuck her, punctuating the words with a thrust that had her toes curling.

The moans that she pulled out of him in turn came from deep inside of him and she felt every one. Felt them loud and against her body when he wasn’t groaning into her neck.

And when he wrapped an arm around her as he came her hand clasped around his wrist. Held it in an almost bruising grip as she mouthed words she wished she could say, but found him saying instead. Short phrases, rushed and rough as he pounded into her, but meant for them and them only.

She didn’t let go, not even when his hold on her eased, his breathing as ragged as her own. Leaning on her arm, she let her head fall forward as she took in a deep breath, and when she raised it back up she couldn’t see past the tangled hair in front of her. V tried to blow the auburn mess away with a single puff, but when it fell back into place she tried again.

This kept on going until Johnny let go of her to brush it aside, sweeping it over her shoulder. Able to see again, she gave him a crooked smile, one that he returned before tilting her chin towards him for a kiss.

“I should’ve tied it back,” she murmured against his lips. “It’s fucking everywhere.”

“It would’ve been out five minutes later. I like it down.”

“Me too.” V rested against him as he ran his fingers through the strands, sighing in contentment. “Took me a while to realize that.”

His hand moved up to rub the back of her neck as he watched her unwind, and when she tilted her head up he caught her eye. “What do you think?”

“It’s…something.”

He eyed her carefully, but eased up when the silly grin on her face refused to fade. “Oh?”

“Yeah. A good something. Might be a keeper even, though we’ll have to test that again sometime. Just in case.”

That got her another kiss, one that both let linger for as long as they could. "I think we can do that."


	49. Double or nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After asking for prompts involving various NSFW things, I got one for Troy and V involving distractions while working, and well...this is what came about. Let's just say that when V spies something unexpected at Troy's place back in SR1 she just has to ask. ;)
> 
> Betaed by the lovely Hunnybadger and Autumnyte! They helped keep this coherent and in line when it tried its best not to be.

She knocked hard on the door to Troy's apartment, shuffled around, then knocked again when she couldn't stand it anymore.

“Hear me out before you close the door! I'll make it good, I swear,” V said, the minute Troy appeared on the other side.

He leaned against it, a cigarette dangling from his lips as always, and gestured towards her. “Shoot.”

“There are some cars being moved. A whole lot of them. Dex wouldn't give me anything on them, but I know you've got the details.”

“I do?”

“Don't.” She poked at his shoulder. “I know you know, and he's only holding back because he's still pissed at me.”

“You did throw the largest wrench you could into his plans with that drug deal,” he said, mild disapproval creeping into his voice. “At least that went off without a hitch, but you know how much Dex loves complications.”

“Which is why I'm going to stick to the proper playbook this time, or whatever he calls it. I mean it.” Troy shook his head and wandered back inside. “Hey, you know I mean it!”

“I know,” he replied, glancing back at her as she slammed the door behind them. “But you've got to know when it's a good idea to hang back, V. We can't afford any more fuck ups, especially not after the ones we've been through already.”

Her shoulders slumped as he gave her that look of his, the one that told her she really should know better by now, and she'd earned it. Especially since it really should've been her tip to use, and her last-minute plans usually weren't the safest to execute.

Keeping her eyes on the floor, she turned to leave when Troy caught her. “Hey, I didn't say no, did I?”

She blinked at him, and let him turn her around. “No, you didn't, but...”

“But I'm not going to be playing sides with you two, even if I already know you're perfect for the job. That kind of back and forth's a bad idea and you know it.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “I'm sorry, I'm not trying to put you in a weird spot, especially since-” She avoided his eyes and shook her head. “Never mind, I got it. I'll give it another try with him tomorrow. We're on for cards, right? Maybe if I lose a few games and buy him a dance he'll be in a better mood to talk business.”

Troy pursed his lips, but nodded. “He usually is. It wouldn't hurt.”

“So,” she started, slipping away from him. “How were you planning on spending your day today, chief?”

“Would you believe working?”

He watched her poke around his apartment, a wry look on his face, and she made a show of avoiding it entirely. “No, why would I believe that? You of all people?”

V unzipped her hoodie and tossed it onto his couch, and tried to pull off her boots while he puffed away at his cigarette. At this point she was waiting for him to stop her, but he didn't step in at any point, even once she got the other off.

Instead he went straight to the kitchen while she placed her boots by the door. With his back turned, she took a peek at his desk, and picked up the empty coffee pot resting on its edge. “Wow. Think you get enough caffeine either?”

“Nope. With the kind of shit I have to manage, there's never enough.”

She placed it back down, her eyes skimming over everything briefly, before settling on the open drawer at the bottom. “No fucking way,” she whispered, running a fingertip along the shiny metal before picking them up. He'd kept them. The damn cuffs.

Her face went red in an instant, and when he turned to check on her, the mug in his hand nearly shattered on the floor. “Christ, uh, what are you...?”

“I was...snooping. Not intentionally,” she told him, trying to shake off her embarrassment.”But I did spot these. Didn't know you held onto them.”

He took a deep drag and put down the mug. “I wasn't exactly planning to, but things've been rough these last few days. Haven't had the time to get rid of them yet.”

“Oh. No real reason to hang onto them then, eh?”

V giggled nervously and twirled them around her finger. It turned into even more of a titter when he shoved his hands into his pockets and exited the kitchen, but she couldn't help it. Not with the way the things seemed to be burning her the longer she touched them.

“Could be fairly handy. I mean, um, I know there's the obvious option, but I can think of a few others.” He was staring at her closely now, and in spite of her mind's warning her mouth kept on running. “You know what?”

“No.” He plucked them out of her hands and made a beeline for his desk.

She pouted. “Could you at least humor me a little?”

Troy stopped in place and spun on her. “By cuffing you? That would be humoring you?”

“Well, it'd be indulging my inner Houdini, but yeah. Never did have a chance to see if I could slip out of a set. Why not now? I mean, Dee's been trying to give me some proper pointers, but we're talking valuable life skills here. Could save some cop some serious paperwork too.”

Troy's stare took on an edge as she shuffled on her feet, and he ran a hand through his hair before crossing his arms. “For practice.”

“Yeah, practice. I've gotta actually get out of these without help at some point in time.” She held out her wrists and tried not to chew on her lip. “And I bet you twenty bucks I'd nail it too.”

Troy's grip tightened on the handcuffs dangling from his hand. “Really?”

“Well, I'd try at least. Can't fault a girl too much for that, can you?”

She swallowed the growing lump in her throat as she watched him think through it, his brows edging together as he looked between her face and her wrists. “So, say I do.”

Her eyes lit up and she tamped it down fast. “Okay.”

“You really think you can find your way out of these no problem?”

“With my eyes closed.” That made him take a long draw of of his cigarette, and she grinned awkwardly. “Kind of.”

He put it out on the ashtray on his table, and V tried not to rock on her feet when he approached her. “Kind of?”

“I'll try not to crack my eyes open too much. Promise.”

He still didn't appear convinced, but he took her wrists in hand and curled her arms behind her to slip the cool metal around her wrists. When she heard that telltale clicking, she flexed her hands and pulled the chain taut, testing it. It held, and she tried not to notice the way her throat went dry when she angled her head up towards him.

“Um, I don't exactly have anything on hand to do this.”

“Hit a snag already?” he asked, with a chuckle.

“So sue me. I didn't think that far ahead, because in my mind you always shoot me down before now.”

“Really?”

 _Well, not every time._ She hoped the flush that came with that particular mental image - and the hint of curiosity in his tone - didn't flare up too bad. “It's a tough thing to agree to. You surprised me.”

His thumb began to move along the inside of her wrist, tracing small circles that tickled against her skin. Both of his hands were still on her, and when she leaned into his body she felt that light grip tighten.

“You going to keep on doing that?” she asked, nipping at his lips.

He opened his mouth, but didn't close those last few inches. Instead, his hands moved up her arms and didn't stop until they were cupping her face. “It depends. Are you?”

She turned into his palm, pressing a kiss there and another to his wrist. “I'd hate to have you get bored on me, chief.”

“With your track record? I don't think you could have a dull moment if you tried.”

That's when she finally caught it. That playful hint that never failed to make her grin, and when he softly touched her jaw she had to look away. “Good.”

His lips touched her skin then. Light, and barely a brush over her cheek as he took her hat by the brim and removed it. She felt inclined to tell him to toss it anywhere, but the care he took in relocating it to the table had her ducking her head again, raising it only when he'd stepped back into her space.

The loose pigtails weren't as easy to navigate around as her hat, however, and when Troy twirled the strands of one around his finger she spoke up. “You can take them out. It'll be easier.”

Her own fingers twitched as he slipped the hairties out, but when he untangled her hair to brush it behind her she couldn't help the little hum that came with it. Her body relaxed, and she leaned into him as he pulled her closer, his mouth going straight to the spot below her ear that never failed to leave her gasping.

This time, however, V bit down on the urge hard, tensing as he moved his hands up her back and over her arms. She caught his smile as he leaned back to reach into his pocket, but before she could open her mouth he closed in, cutting her off entirely. His tongue took over from there, sliding against hers as she pulled on the cuffs and let out a sound of frustration.

“Easy,” he said against her lips. “Don't pull too hard.”

The shaky breath barely made it between her teeth, but she unclenched her fists. The handcuffs had tightened, but weren't uncomfortable. Not yet.

His hand snaked down to hers and pressed something into her palm. Something thin and misshapen, and it took her a second to realize what it was. A paperclip. One that had been bent out of shape to make a fairly straight point.

Her eyebrow went up, and he gave her a look. “You're supposed to be escaping, right?”

“…Yeah, escaping. Right.” He kissed her again, his teeth teasing at her bottom lip and she fiddled with the paperclip as she tried to regain her senses. “I might've been a little distracted.”

“Gotta learn to work around those. They can be fucking lethal,” he chided while his hands moved under the hem of her shirt.

“And keep my eye on the prize?”

She kissed him back and the clip nearly fell out of her hand when he cupped her breasts. It took almost double the effort to shift the wire back into place, but once she got it into the lock she grinned wide.

Maneuvering it from there wasn't as easy, and she felt him undo the clasp to her bra while she bent and wiggled her wrist around. Then his hands were on her again, warm and wonderful, and V bit her lip hard as she tried another angle. And another. And one more for good measure as she gasped into his mouth.

The sound almost overwhelmed the small set of clicks completely, and it still took her a full minute after cracking one to realize she was loose. But once she did, she tangled her fingers in Troy's hair, and the victorious expression on her face made him chuckle. “Not bad.”

“Never underestimate the draw of twenty big ones, pal. It's some incentive.”

“What about double that?”

She took in the way he was staring at her, set on her and only her, and she ran over the words that left his mouth four times before responding. “Double?”

“Yeah. Raise the stakes a little. What do you say?”

He squeezed her gently and she giggled. “Dammit. You just had to do that, didn't you?”

“Do what?”

“Put it that way.” She put her hands behind her head and stepped away. “Now I can't say no.”

“Because you would've before?”

She held out her wrists with her palms open. “What do you think, chief?”

Everything sped up after that. He took her wrists in one of his hands while the other got her shirt over her head, and although he wanted to – she could see it in the way he watched her – he didn't touch her again. Not yet. Not like she wanted as well, and when she tried to kiss him on the way over to his bed, he dodged her, warning her with the slightest tilt of his lips.

The minute she hit the mattress she scooted right up to the headboard and eyed him expectantly, both of her hands raised above her head with her makeshift lockpick in tow. He leaned over her and tugged her wrists together, but didn't cuff her. Just held them behind one of the slats as he ran his eyes over her.

The question was still there, that same careful one that had her heart pounding, and when he met her eyes she nodded again, her fingers catching his. It didn't chase away every doubt, but when he returned the shy smile she gave him it was enough.

He closed the metal around her wrist again, checking to make sure neither of them were too tight, and pressed his lips to a spot right below the metal ring. Then another. Traveling down, he moved between each of her arms, and when he reached her shoulders V arched into him, her feelings torn between eager and impatient already.

Because she'd tossed the idea of this out days ago. The Five-O had been pushing it – God, she had to tug at the collar of her shirt whenever she'd catch sight of one on the street - but when he'd pitched the cuffs she hadn't expected them to show up again. Or go anywhere near her wrists.

But here they were, and she couldn't mistake the way he was looking at her. That fact alone turned her on quicker than any uniform would've.

“Tease,” she said, wrapping her legs around him when he kissed her neck and sucked a trail down past her collarbone. “You're not making this easy at all.”

“I'm not supposed to, remember?”

She breathed hard when Troy slipped his fingers beneath her shorts, his mouth now inches from her chest, and when he flicked the button open she wiggled in his light grip. “Sure, but you could at least lose the shirt. That's not even fair.”

“True,” he said, hooking her shorts by the loops and pulling them down along with her underwear. “Kind of one-sided as we are right now, eh?”

“Yeah. Just a little,” she threw out.

Pushing himself up, he dragged the shirts off, and before she could comment he started pulling at his belt too. It hit the floor, then his jeans, and by the time he'd tossed even his watch aside, V was left staring at him speechless.

Troy raised an eyebrow. “Better?”

“Yeah,” she replied, wetting her lips. “Much better.”

He spread her legs when he climbed back onto the bed, and he took in her flushed appearance for a second before lowering his head. The chain hit the post before he touched her, the sound louder than she expected, and he hesitated.

It took every ounce of sense in her to move her hands back into place, but once she did he didn't waste any time crossing that last inch, leaving her gasping sharply when he sucked her nipple into his mouth. The chain didn't budge a second time, however, not even when she felt the faintest hint of his teeth.

She knew he had his eyes on her, and for the most part didn't break eye contact, but couldn't help it. Not when he kissed her like he did, and certainly not on the path he was traveling, as his lips moved past her sternum and over her stomach. It left her fighting to keep her impatience from spiking again.

“How's it going?” he asked after a moment, his voice rough.

Her nails were digging into her palms and only stopped when he didn't continue. “What?”

“Your escape attempt. I don't see much practicing.”

 _Escape attempt?...Ah, fuck._ She groped the air and there was no trace of the metal paperclip whatsoever.

“Oh.” He glanced up at her, and the look she gave him was almost guilty. “Yeah, uh, I might've dropped it. The paperclip.”

“You did?”

“I think it's somewhere on the floor behind the headboard now. I'm flexible, but not even I'm going to be able to reach that.”

“You're batting a thousand, V,” he said, propping his head up on his arm. “I seem to recall you saying something about being able to nail this.”

“Hey, I got it the first time. Don't leave that out. I'll get the rest eventually. That's what makes practice, practice.”

“So you're planning on doing this again?”

Troy raised himself up and ran his hands down her thighs, his breath warm against her skin, and she nodded.

There was a kiss on her hip, another that grazed the top of her upper thigh, and he gently lifted one of her legs to press one to the inside of her knee. “Until you get it right?”

“Y-yeah.” Her fingers gripped the chain tight, and pulled it taut when he placed her leg over his shoulder, his mouth traveling higher by the second. “I'll nail it then. Still, today's not a total loss. It makes me wish more of my fuck ups ended with someone amazing between my legs.”

He met her eyes and she couldn't hold his gaze, not with the way he was looking at her, and when he traced his tongue along the inside of her thigh, she gave up on keeping them open, period. Her body arched as a low whine slipped out, and with every brush and tickle of his goatee she found it tough not to let another out.

“I can't promise I'll be there every time,” he murmured, sucking lightly on the skin there. “But I'll be close.”

“Close is good. Very good.”

His lips pressed a kiss to a spot inches away from her clit, and she felt his breath again, warm and way too damn inviting. “But you'd want me closer, wouldn't you?”

The quick nod made him chuckle, and she twitched, moving her hips up as the chain clattered against the wood.

“Careful.”

“I-” She tried to relax her wrists, but she could feel everything. The deep breaths he was working to disguise, the heat from his skin, the way he kept on edging closer and yet not. “I'm trying.”

“You sure?”

Forcing her eyes open, she saw his eyebrows crease, and gripped the post to keep the metal from digging into her skin again. “Positive.”

“Am I going to have to test that too?”

“Take it or leave it, chief.” He kissed her again, and she dug her fingers in. “Troy.”

His fingers spread her open as he look a long lick, and she felt her thighs try to clamp down around him. Following it up with another, her moan caught in her throat and rose in pitch when he dipped inside of her.

This wasn't teasing, she thought as he took his time running his tongue over her. This had to be the highest form of torture, because every inch of her was on fire. Every bit of skin that he touched and abandoned was left wanting, and she couldn't stand it. She wanted him everywhere, his mouth and hands rough as he took her any way he could have her.

Because at least then it wouldn't be this. These slow, lingering licks that made her nerves fray as she tried to buck into him but couldn't. Not with the steady hand keeping her in place, and not with her hands bound. If they'd been free she'd already have paid him back by now, and with interest.

A phrase forced its way past her lips, and he broke away. “What's that?”

“You'd better fucking hope I don't get these open.”

“Why?” he asked, his tongue touching her just enough to make the muscles in her legs tense.

“Because the minute that happens I'm going to slap these damn things on you. Hold you down while I”- V sucked in a breath in and felt her voice waver - “while I sit on that fucking infuriating face of yours. Then I'll-”

“What?” He licked deeper, pushing his tongue further than before, and she couldn't form the words as his tongue moved in and out. “What'll you do?” he asked against her.

He gripped her thighs tight, and when he closed his mouth over her clit she lost it. Gave up entirely on holding the post as she curled, kicked, and clung to the feeling rushing her. He helped her ride through it. His mouth coaxing as much as she was capable of out of her until her voice couldn't give him any more.

The high hadn't faded when she felt her limbs relax, and when he climbed back up with a key glinting in his hands, she grabbed for him as soon as her wrists were free.

“Are you okay?” Troy asked, cupping her chin after checking her. “None of that hurt you, did it-”

She cut him off with a firm kiss, and held onto him tight. “Please,” she repeated, feeling him hot against her. “Please.”

He reached for the drawer on his nightstand, leaving her only long enough to get the condom on, and slid into her agonizingly slow. The calm and easy pace he tried to maintain ended shortly after she felt him go deep, and she latched onto him. Dug her nails in as she angled her hips and proceeded to fuck him from the bottom as best she could.

Licking and biting his neck as she held on, he couldn't get a word out, not without it turning into a groan, and when his grip went hard enough to bruise she relished the way he sounded when he came. Rough and hurried through clenched teeth, as he tried to hold on and failed, falling every time.

She didn't slow down until she felt his grip slacken, and didn't let go of her own grip herself until he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Only then could she let go of the rush and the adrenaline, easing back to take in the calming breaths she needed. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, and the lazy feeling settling over them nearly had her fall asleep that very instant.

“I, uh, don't think I nailed that,” V gasped, curled against him. “I think I gave up any hope of passing the minute you had to whip the key out. That doesn't exactly fly, does it?”

“Nope. Rules are picky like that.”

“So much for being forty dollars richer.” Nuzzling against him, she yawned. “Could always put down another forty, though.”

“You could.”

“Could double that too, or see how you'd fare, because I am going to need to get some serious practicing in. Rigorous and extensive too.”

Troy snorted and kissed her forehead. "You think so?"

"I know so."


	50. The more you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something semi-short for SR1 that follows directly after Sing that jingle. V's got some info to share. It's a shame that no one's able to get a hold of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're at magic number 50! I was thinking of whipping up something special for the occasion, but these little ideas kept on biting, so I had to jot them down before they could run off. Thanks for sticking with V and I this long, and there's still quite a few ideas to go! Hopefully I can catch them all. :)

A breeze crept in through the cracked window, and Troy leaned into it, letting the smoke resting in his mouth out in a slow exhale. “You're quiet.”

The sound of the engine was his only response, and Troy peered over at his passenger with both of his eyebrows raised.

 _Un-fucking-believable._ “Hey!” He snapped his fingers in front of Johnny's face, and saw him jolt. “You've got to be shitting me.”

The hand that had gone for his side drifted back up to rub his eyes, pushing the sunglasses up for only a few seconds. “Fuck off. I'm up.”

Troy shook his head. “No, you were asleep, and we've been on the road for five minutes, tops.”

“And we've been wasting our fucking time at this light for all of it. Pull to the side, hop the sidewalk, and they'll get out of the way.”

“And get us t-boned for our trouble when we cross back? Sounds like a fucking treat.”

“You asked.”

“I didn't.”

“Whatever. It's the best way to cut through all of this bullshit.”

“And you're not driving, so cut me some fucking slack. We're going the speed limit, I don't see what's so damn bad about it.”

Troy flicked the radio on, and Johnny slapped his hand away from the knob when he tried to switch it. “Leave it. Only decent station they've got.”

He shrugged, and brought the car to a steady stop at the next light. “Whatever you say, man. The Rock's not half-bad, though.”

“It would be better if they'd stop playing the same shit on repeat. Once is enough, and then V's always putting it on for seconds.”

It wasn't a large radio, but V did drag it out when she had work to do with wires, her car, or was hanging around the church. He'd hear her humming along from time to time, and was certain that if prompted she could've run through the entire song she was in the middle of without missing a beat.

“I'm surprised the radio hasn't had an accident yet. Wouldn't be too tough to stage it.”

Troy found Gat in the rearview mirror, and watched as he considered it. “Wouldn't need any of that fancy shit, though. Just a minute and some blunt force trauma.”

“Ah.” The bat. “Swing a solid home run? See how far you can shoot it to the moon?”

“I could, but whatever. She learns to turn the damn thing off and maybe I won't.”

Troy placed his cigarette back between his lips, and tried not to smile. “At least that'll spare her the shock of watching you beat the shit out of it. Small favors, eh?”

Gat shrugged, but didn't lose his grin.

Troy had originally planned on doing this solo. Picking someone up wasn't always a two-man trip, especially if it was going down the street in what was essentially their safe zone, but there was no discouraging Gat once he'd set himself on something.

The boredom had been written all over him as he'd circled Dex during the meeting, and the moment Julius had singled Troy out to bring V back to the church - Dex was busy talking logistics with Jules, so he was an automatic out - Troy had known he wasn't the only one leaving the room. Johnny had grown restless, and the chance to stretch his legs until they could buckle down on strategy seemed too good to pass up.

V's trip out to the Carnales' factory the night before was their ticket right now, and with her away from her phone they had no clear say as to whether or not they could move forward. It wasn't cause for concern – he'd heard back from Dee via one loud drunk dial at 4 AM that they weren't dead and or dying – but he'd hoped to get V's angle on it. They all did. See just how bad of an idea they were working with before they charged in with an even worse one.

They pulled up to her apartment, and Troy kept an eye out for her vehicle of the week, a maroon Ant. It wasn't in the parking lot, but that could've meant it was back at the garage or broken down on the side of the road. Troy called her one last time as they took the stairs up, and got nothing but her voicemail, her playful tone leading into a sharp beep.

“Nothing?” Gat asked as they made it to her door.

“Nope.” Troy pocketed it and frowned. “She usually picks up before now.”

Craning his head to check, Troy noticed the cracked door at the same time as Johnny, and felt that lingering worry hit in full force.

“Yo, you in?” Johnny had his hand on the gun hidden in the back of his jeans as he nudged the door open. Troy held his close, checking around the corners, and followed Gat when he pushed ahead.

He wasn't sure what to expect, what to supply his mind with as his eyes scanned the room for any signs of a struggle, but after a moment he realized he didn't have to supply it with anything, because wasn't anything.

The silent apartment had nothing beyond the odd Chinese take-out containers and scattered clothes. Normal, mundane things, and once the few scattered rooms were clear, he took in a long drag and let the tension leave his body. That was close. Too close, even in a hood that was theirs.

Troy lowered his weapon, and came to a stop next to the rumpled sheet on V's bed, Johnny joining him shortly after. The mess of red hair he'd picked out shifted, and a hand brushed some to the side to let a set of dark eyes blink wearily at them.

“Rise and shine,” Johnny greeted, laughing when V groaned and covered her face. “Looks like you had a fun night.”

V rolled over, the sheet still bunched under her chin, and draped an arm over her eyes. “Eat me.”

Gat glanced at Troy over his glasses, a smirk teasing at his lips, and kicked at the corner of her bed. “Bout to be a fun day. Boss's orders.”

“Boss?”

“Yeah, boss. Forget something after your little factory run the other night?” He nudged the bed again and V half-heartedly swatted at the air. “He's calling. There's a meeting at the church just for you.”

She let out a breath and scowled. “...Should've skipped the fucking tequila.”

Troy raised an eyebrow, and had a feeling he was going to be making a few calls later. “Hangover from hell, then?”

“Yeah, it's-” She lifted her arm to get a better look at him and cringed. “Ah, shit. It's too early to be fielding both of you.”

“It's one in the afternoon and you forgot to lock your deadbolt.” She dragged the pillow up and over the back of her head and Troy put his hands on his hips. “Doesn't change the time, V. Or the fact that that was a bad call. Anyone could follow you home, and with these guys they're waiting for you to fuck up.”

“Yeah, yeah, chief. I know the drill.”

The dismissive tone dug at him, and he tried not to bristle. “Sure.”

“I did lock the damn thing earlier, I swear. Luis must've flipped it.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And that makes it better.”

“Ah, never too early for this shit.” She muttered something close to a whatever and Johnny chuckled. “Now why don't you get your ass up before we make you? Julius still wants you there.” Another grumble came from the blankets, and Troy exchanged a look with Gat before he shrugged. “Eh, suit yourself.”

He grabbed a fistful of the sheet and pulled, and Troy nearly bit through his cigarette when V violently yanked it back, because he suddenly became a hell of a lot more aware of just how far those freckles traveled. How they ran along the curve of her back, and down her legs, and he'd barely traced the lines of the tattoo on her shoulder before being kicked back into the present.

V held the sheet in a tight grip close to her as she stared them both down, and somewhere to his left Troy registered a flat, “Oh.”

“I'd wait outside if I were you,” she ground out, her hair tangled around her beet-red face.

Troy felt his throat begin to burn as Johnny cleared his. “Uh, you want more than five, we can-”

“Get the _fuck_ out!” she yelled, and they booked it straight for the door.

It wasn't until it had slammed behind them that Troy remembered to breathe again, and he ran both of his hands over his face as he gulped down air. “Jesus.”

A low whistle cut through the air as Johnny glanced back at the door, and they both heard the faint sound of something being thrown, paired with V's heated swearing. Troy swallowed thickly as he tried to get his heart rate back in check, but couldn't lose the image. That single snapshot that he had no business catching.

He was still reeling when he heard Johnny's exhale, and fumbled for his pack.

“Heh. The more you know.” Troy spun towards him, and Gat's grin fell. “What?”


	51. Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done for the prompt given by autumnyte, V/Troy - implacable, and this short bit back in SR1 came about! It’s soon after finishing up the first mission for Johnny, and V’s got some excess energy to burn.

"Troy. Hey, Troy!" She hadn't even finished running down the hallway when she started calling for him, and when she reached the office she had to lean on the doorway to hold herself up. "Yo, uh, I need your help on something."

He had a curious expression on his face, but waved her over. "Sure. What are you looking into?"

"Local prostitution rings. Shit with the VKs." She pushed herself up and jogged over to his side, whipping out a small notepad and pen. "We've got that on record, right? I don't know if we've got routes down, but if they've grabbing women off of the street we've got to-"

"Whoa, hey! Slow down for a second," Troy told her, holding up a hand. "Relax. I know what you're thinking, but you can't rush into any of this."

"But what the fuck are we doing by waiting around? They're still kidnapping people! I'm not going to sit on my hands while they try to shove more women into their fucking cars and backrooms for King! How the hell can Julius even tolerate that shit in his city?"

Troy's frown deepened as he thought her words over. "I'm not saying he does, kid, but if you want those girls safe you can't just start running around gunning for anybody that looks at you wrong. Johnny had you on that, right? With Aisha's sister? You all got fucking lucky on that one since you were able to get her back safe and sound, but you can't rush in every time."

"But they'll only-"

"V." She shut her mouth, her grip on the pen tight enough to hurt, and Troy sighed. "Look, you need a plan. These guys are just going to take their operations underground if we push too hard and too fast. I don't like any of this shit either, trust me on that, but you've got to be careful. We're working on it, I know it's not showing much right now, but the minute there's news we'll be there."

The thin line she'd pressed her lips into started to hurt, but she took a look at him, one long look, and felt her frustration begin to deflate. "...You're sure?"

"Yeah. I promise. We're not abandoning any of them."

Her attention swung to the ground and stayed there once she began pacing. "I know. It's just having that info and knowing what's happening, what's been happening for a while now. I should've asked about it. Done something before having Johnny throw it at me."

"You did enough, V."

"Sure. Maybe I did, but it doesn't feel like it, you know? And Johnny..." V felt her face try to flare up when she thought back to that meeting. "I don't even think that was what he'd called me in there for. It worked out, but I wonder if he would've even pitched it to me otherwise."

"Why not?" Troy leaned against the corner of his desk and V gave him a look before returning to her pacing circuit. "I'm not fucking with you here."

"Right, Troy, because I definitely got that impression from him the minute I walked in. Oh, by the way, is that even normal?" she asked, spinning on her heel to face Troy. "For a guy to kinda introduce himself and in the same breath talk about his eight-inch penis? I mean, this is Johnny Gat, but-"

Troy's eyebrows flew up. " _What?"_

"Yeah, I wasn't too sure about that one." V shrugged, and the awkward smile she gave Troy gradually morphed into a lopsided frown. "Though, uh, sorry, man. Guess I'm not the only one with that little tidbit stored now."

He groaned and covered his eyes. "Great. Guess not." Muttering a few more curses, Troy waved it off. "He's only trying to throw you. You let him and he'll keep on going."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but...fuck. It's-" V bit down on the words and shook her head. "It's silly shit. I shouldn't be fussing at you about any of it.

He took a long drag off of his cigarette as she pushed her hands into her pockets, and when he spoke up again his tone was softer. "You know I don't mind talking to you, right?"

"I figured as much since you haven't thrown me out yet, but I really should get out of here," she insisted, tugging at her hat. "You've already got enough to deal with and I won't waste any more of your time. I'll uh, ask Dex. He's the one with a better lead on what's happening with the girls, right?"

"Yeah, he's the one," Troy replied, folding his arms. "He can also hook you up with the others already on it. It's about damn time we stepped it up, and I think you'll do good there. Oh, and by the way?" V glanced over at him, and he gave her a nod. "Nice work, kid. You did good."

"Sure. Wouldn't hurt to do more, though," V muttered on her way out.


	52. Belief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was what had kept her going up until this moment. SRIV.
> 
> Something short based off of the prompt - Breathe Again for Johnny and V. This is a scene that I've wanted to tackle for forever now.

There had been a time back when they first landed in Steelport, back when V had forced herself to get into that car with Shaundi, and drive so she wouldn’t be able to stop and think, let alone think about the plane that was crashing towards the water, that she’d told herself it wasn’t true.

Until there had been a body, or some trace of evidence, she wouldn’t believe it. That Johnny was dead, and the last chance she’d had to see him or talk to him had passed, and she’d never have a chance to do it again. That when she woke up the next morning she wouldn’t run into him outside of his room, or hear him grumble at her as she darted inside to steal an extra towel from his bathroom before running back to hers.

That she wouldn’t wake up in his bed again, an accident that kept on growing more and more common, to see him resting next to her. Still asleep as his chest rose, and he'd mumble something under his breath too low for her to hear. Or he’d be moving around, watching her as she straightened her shirt and bid a hasty exit, because it’d felt comfortable. Too comfortable, and too close to those nights where Troy’s arms would slide around her while he’d whisper to her, his words as gentle as his touch.

But time passed. The Saints grew, and she started to believe it. Maybe. That one word made her hair stand on end as she charged into the Morningstar's headquarters and blew it sky high.

Because even after that, what they had was nothing. No trace, not a single sign of Johnny, and in that moment with the reflection of the fires growing dimmer in their rearview mirror, V let herself believe it, and nearly crumpled at the wheel.

That last shred of hope seemed so foolish after everything that had passed, but she'd held onto it tightly then, and it was that which kept her running now. That kept her moving to the location Kinzie had broadcasted to the power armor, holding her as she saw Johnny's mark everywhere.

Because this time it wasn't some idle hope. Something that she'd dreamed of, and held on to. She'd heard his voice, fought right next to him, and she didn't have to lie to herself, not anymore.

The doors in front of her erupted when the missile slammed into them, and she didn't wait for the heat and smoke to dissipate before shoving the fragments out of the way. The metal groaned as the robotic arms warped it, and a line of warnings flashed as the armor punched the rest of the way through.

Once she was clear, she scanned the hallway and flooded it with fire, removing the last three Zin before grabbing at her harness and the controls. The cockpit flew open and V jumped, sprinting as soon as she hit the floor.

She ran. She ran as fast as she could with a rifle in her hands and her blood pumping in her ears towards that room. The only room at the end of the corridor, and she was so close now. So close to an answer.

Her feet almost slipped on the slick floor by the malfunctioning door, and she saw the bodies. Under the light she could see the room had them littered left and right, and she pushed through. Stepped over the singed Zin and her rifle hit the floor. She couldn’t hold it. Couldn’t keep a proper grip on it as her voice stopped working.

Johnny was all calm motion. Casual, not in any hurry, or concerned about the alarms blaring through the halls, and she watched him. Didn’t even bother to blink as he plucked his sunglasses off of the head of the struggling Zin he’d pinned to the floor, and she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t get anything past her lips as her mouth went dry, and when he saw her, that’s when she started to believe it.

Saw that slow curve of his smile – it’d become harder and harder to recall over the years, but the warmth that came with it hadn’t dulled one bit  – and felt her legs carry her right up to him.

And they’d done their old greeting at first, clasping each others’ hands in their own, tightly. Johnny put a hand on her back to draw her close, and V held onto him, grabbed his arm to steady herself and felt her voice crack.

“You’re real. You’re fucking real,” she murmured, as she reached up to touch the side of his face, and his smile slipped shortly before he crushed her against him.

Her arms slid up and around his neck, the shit from the tank getting everywhere as he buried his face in her hair, and she pressed her cheek to his pulse, but she didn’t care. She held on, felt her body shake as she squeezed her eyes closed, and heard him repeat her name, over and over with each harsh breath.

And if her grip went tight enough to bruise he didn’t say. Only kept her close as she choked down air and refused to let go.

  



	53. Brand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy's run through a lot of ideas in those early days with the Saints. Some good, some bad, but most had him asking some variation of "Is that wise?" every time. He's pretty sure this idea isn't, but can't help but leap for it anyway. Pre-SR1.

“Hey, got a light?”

Troy glanced over at the Saint that had asked, one of the kids that had been in the ring shortly after he'd come out of it, and watched him wiped at the trail of blood coming from his nose. He had to be around eighteen, give or take, and Troy tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that came from the fact that there had been way too many others around here his age or younger.

It only made Troy feel older as he reached into his pocket, his own bruises still aching from the beating he'd caught the night before, and held the matches out to him. “Sure, kid.”

The kid ruined the first match trying to get it to catch – his hands shook a bit too much – but his cigarette took on the second, and he handed it back, gratefully. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

Troy waved him off, and watched him wander towards the small crowd that had gathered after the canonization. Julius had already given them his blessing, offering words of support along with a promise that they were working towards something greater. A Stilwater that could be better, and Troy had to admit after hearing it twice, it hadn't lost much of its impact. It had still held him rapt until the end, and as he flicked at the ashes on his cig, he wondered how many others the Saints were going to take in this week.

There weren't that many tonight, four total, but the canonization the night before had put him next to five others, and he saw that glint in their eye. They'd wanted it. Had been more than willing to be beaten into the ground for it, and when he'd caught nearly one hit too many, he'd wondered if he'd shown even a tenth of it. That dedication that Julius was set on. He'd needed to show it, believe it, and seeing as he was still standing here now, he'd passed well enough.

It was his job to. He puffed on his cigarette as he recalled his last conversation with Chief Monroe, where he'd been told that this was going to be a hard-sell. He couldn't hesitate in any regard, because you do and you're dead.

“ _You do, and this falls apart. You don't want that now, do you, son?”_

Troy took in the people around him, those that had come here willingly, to do something about the shit happening around them, and no. He didn't. Not when he'd come here wanting the same.

But it wasn't that simple. Not with the wires he'd had to pitch shortly after the first time he'd passed through, and not with the stares he'd had to weather from people at least ten years younger than him when he'd stepped up. He needed more than an in. Something better than words and assurances, and bruises that would fade in a day or two.

None of those things earned you loyalty, only a temporary pass, and he needed more than the odd pat on the back to distinguish himself as someone that could get shit done. That he was a Saint, or at least as close to one in name as he could get.

So, when he heard a familiar voice drift by, he ignored his initial reflex. The one that told him that he'd be better off blending into the crowd, because you don't ask for attention from Johnny Gat. Only cocky son-of-bitches did, and it took one to stand toe to toe with him even on neutral ground.

The guy held himself tall, completely at ease, but in a sense that no matter what angle you'd try to take to shank him it wouldn't work. Wouldn't make an ounce of difference, he'd snap your arm and put two in your head for the trouble, if he didn't leave you bleeding out on the pavement. The night before, Johnny had been challenged directly, and his answer to that had left the challenger writhing on the floor while clutching their face. Gat hadn't said a word, only offered a smirk as he stood in front of them, and the others in the circle shied away from him seconds before he'd put the other man down.

The chill that had run down Troy's back after that had made him want to turn away, but he couldn't. His attention had been caught as his cigarette burned down to nothing but cinders, and later, when Troy had made it through his own canonization, he'd nearly choked on the breath he'd taken in when Gat had given him a single nod.

So, everything said to tread carefully around this guy. The old reports, the stories, the goddamn evidence he'd built just hanging around the church for the last couple of days, it all added up to a picture that hadn't been far from the one built from hearsay, and wasn't to be handled lightly.

The Saints by Gat milled around him as he traded words, and even clapped a few of them on the back, but Troy couldn't pick out much from this distance. He'd have to get closer if he wanted anything solid.

“Hey, you.” Troy felt someone fling an arm around his neck, and tensed instantly. “You were here yesterday, right?”

He glanced at the woman that had entered his space, and after running her cotton candy colored hair and sly grin through his memory he found he actually did remember her. She'd been from the canonization right before his, and had been all too eager to share the horror stories from that night in extensive detail.

So he relaxed when he caught her friendly tone, but only a fraction. “Yeah, came back for seconds, but I can't say I'm sad I get to skip that now.”

“Canonizations always blow when you're new,” she said, her volume going up by the second. Taking a drink of her beer, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and pointed towards Johnny. “Though sometimes you get some asshole that thinks it'd be a great idea to fuck with Gat. You remember which one, right? The guy from the other night? That ass was lucky they could scrape him out of there.”

Troy nodded, taking a long drag off his cigarette, and watched the woman down the rest of the bottle. “Not surprising.”

“No, though he's got to be grateful that Johnny doesn't kill anyone willing to enter the ring with him. I mean, they're all assholes, but to him they're still Saints. Counts for something, right?” She smiled, and when Troy continued to give her a weak one in return, she laughed. “You don't remember me at all, do you?”

It took him a few seconds, but he managed to dig it up. “Dee, right?”

“Blondie, but yeah. Dee's right.” She set the empty bottle down and he watched her sway slightly as she considered him. “T. It begins with a T. Travis?”

“Troy.”

“Fuck it, close enough. Hey, why don't you come over?” Dee stood up, keeping her balance set for someone that he suspected had to be sloshed, and gestured towards the circle. “Fresh blood's having some fun mingling.”

“And?”

“You can't mingle much in a party of one,” she pointed out, angling her head back.

There it was again, the voice that told him it was a bad idea to consider any of this at all, but with one last puff of his cigarette, he tossed it down, and crushed it beneath his shoe. “Eh, why not?”

Her smile went sly again, and he gave her a few paces before following.

Gat had turned a grin on the group surrounding him – six in total - more than a few now attempting to re-enact the fight from earlier, and when they joined the circle, Troy could feel his eyes on them. No matter how prepared he'd been for it his hair still stood on end, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them occupied while the mock fight continued.

“Yo, hold on there,” Johnny interrupted when one of the Saints threw an exaggerated punch. “That was fucking sloppy. Probably why you” - he pointed directly at another Saint, one with a bloody nose - “got the shit kicked out of you when it didn't connect. Clean that up or there won't be a next time.”

The woman stood up straighter as Troy dug out another cigarette, and he offered one to Dee before lighting up.

“So, Johnny,” Dee asked, speaking up, “got any other tips you'd like to share?”

Troy kept his eyes on his cig as he lit it, but the moment that Gat started talking his attention went right to him.

“Some.”

“Like...?”

“I've done this shit before, and don't remember much listening then,” he said, bluntly. “But you motherfuckers think you'll do better?”

Troy opened his mouth, and almost bit his tongue. “Gotta, if we'd like to stick around, right?”

Johnny cracked a smile. “It helps. This ain't a fucking handbook, though. I'm not going to tell you shoot first, shoot often, then write a pretty little A at the top if you make it down the whole list. What you do have?” He gestured towards Troy, then another Saint to his right, then to one on the other side of the circle – “The person next to you. Blood for blood, once you join us, you are one of us. Saints protect their own. Wear that color, get shit done, and someday you'll earn the name.”

“Not everyone's going to be flying purple at all times, though.” Johnny slowly turned his way, and Troy nearly sucked the smoke in his mouth down into his lungs. “Smart ones do.”

“Yeah, they do," Gat agreed, watching him carefully.

“What do we do if we want something a little more permanent?” Troy gestured towards his neck and tamped down on the nerves rising up. Recalling the fleurs around the courtyard – and in the photographs he'd spent months poring over – an idea took hold, and he didn't wait to think twice before running with it. “I've seen decent ink around, but none like yours.”

The tattoos running around Johnny's neck were one of a kind, to the point that he'd bet serious money that they weren't just for the Saints if even at all. Under the dim streetlights, Troy still couldn't see all of the careful detailing that had to have gone into them, but even so he doubted he would've been able to tie them back to anything useful. The decorative lines didn't form any distinct shapes, and below the collar Gat could've easily hidden more.

Gat smiled again, this time with an edge reminiscent of the ring. “Won't find none. But I know a guy if you'd like to add a little something extra.”

“I might.” Troy exhaled and took his eyes off of Johnny's tattoos to meet the others' eyes. “Figured we all would.”

A few of the Saints around them looked at each other while they thought about it, while others cheered outright, and after checking with them, Gat laughed. “That so?”

The Saints cheered again, gaining momentum, and after a moment of watching Dee and the others all get pumped up – some more so than the rest, judging by the strength of their cheers and the bottles they raised – he gave them all a nod.

“Good.”

* * *

They hit the Rusty's Needle not too far from the church. Troy had seen the spot on a few passes, but hadn't pegged it as a Saints only joint until they all waltzed in and the artist working there raised his head in welcome. “Hey, Johnny. Been a while.”

He lowered the tattoo gun to clap Johnny on the shoulder, and Troy tried to see how many of the guy's tattoos he could commit to memory before he turned his attention their way. Not too many, but with a face to go with it, it'd help.

“Fresh blood,” Gat said, giving them all a wicked smirk. “They want something that'll last longer than bruises, if you've got time.”

He checked the group, counting every member as he passed over them, and dug for his phone. “Let me make a couple of calls.”

So he did, giving Troy ample amounts of time to smoke his pack into oblivion while Dee cracked open a few beers they'd dragged over, and they all got...better acquainted. By the time they'd started getting ready to be inked up, Troy had a buzz going, a hell of a lot more of one than he'd told himself to pick up, but it helped with the nerves. About getting in the chair, for starters, but it sure as hell helped him be in the same room with a roaming Gat as he paced and refused to stand still.

He hovered over another of the guys, and watched the needle move as the fleur was seared into his skin. They shared a joke, something Troy wasn't able to pick up easily over the other sounds in the shop, and Johnny moved on, his attention shifting to the next best thing.

Troy's turn didn't come until he was in the chair, his shirt stripped off so the lead artist, Russ – believe it or not - could get an idea of what he was working with.

He'd flipped through the catalogue and gone for something simple, the black outline of a fleur, but didn't get it put in a showy place. Deciding to finally play it safe, he went for his left shoulder blade, a place that he could easily hide it most days. But it would be there. He'd know, the others would know, and that's what counted.

Still, he had a moment where he wondered what the fuck he was doing. Putting himself out there, getting blasted with a few kids he wasn't sure would last the week, and getting inked up in the hopes of adding another notch to his belt seemed like a shit idea.

Well, not too much of one, but it was a decent starting point, and when another beer went his way Troy didn't hesitate to tip it back. Even when it came from Gat's hands. “Thanks.”

“It helps. Maybe not always, but it'll do.” Troy put more back, and nearly choked on it when Johnny spoke again. “Didn't think you'd be back so soon.”

 _Fuck._ Guess he hadn't been under Gat's radar after all. He swallowed the sip he'd been in the middle of and took in a deep breath. “Why?”

“Oscar nearly put you out.” The amusement in his tone made Troy relax a hair, but not by much.

“And like a fucking genius I didn't choose to stay down.” He'd been huge, and when Troy had been clipped by him, he really had wondered if he'd made a huge fucking mistake getting in there. “Probably would've saved me the hurt, eh?”

“Probably.”

Troy flicked at his cig while Johnny came around to see what Russ was doing, and he blinked a few times while he turned to keep an eye on them. The blurred vision hadn't kicked in just yet, but he wouldn't be surprised if it followed soon enough. “Nothing for you?”

“No. There'll be others.”

“Not much left to cover?”

Johnny shrugged and perched himself on the edge of a nearby counter. “There's enough. It's better just to space it out.”

“Ah. Gotta think about it first? Leave no room for regrets?”

Gat didn't respond, but he didn't shoot him down either. Only slid his attention back to Russ, while he continued to prep.

“It's tough staying still for long, though,” Troy commented, feeling his foot try to tap out an uneven rhythm on the floor. “You go for anything flashy like the shit you've already got, and that's a good session and a half at least. Not counting future touch ups. Don't know how often you'd need to visit your guy for that.”

Troy turned his attention to Johnny only then, and had just started to move along the sharp, violet lines on his neck when Gat canted his head and turned to stare right back at him. Panic tried to kick in as Troy felt his grip on the neck of the bottle tighten, but the expression crossing Johnny's face wasn't threatening or suspicious.

So, Troy ignored the warning bells and parked his eyes right on Gat's sunglasses as he slowly put the cigarette back between his lips. “What?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Nothing, unless you want it to mean something.”

Drawing his eyebrows together, Troy twitched when he felt Russ graze his back, but didn't drop his eyes. Johnny was smiling now, and Troy almost reached for another cigarette to light up alongside his current one. “Nah, we're cool. Just curious.”

“Still?” He relaxed and got up. “Too bad.”

The minute he walked away Troy put his dwindling stub out, and drew in as calm of a breath as he could manage. After a moment, however, Russ chuckled.

“Worth a shot, eh?” he offered, and Troy pursed his lips as he dug for his pack.

* * *

Troy's eyes creaked open to the pleasant sensation of his skin burning. It wasn't a sharp sensation, but he was damn well aware of it unlike his immediate surroundings as he slowly woke up.

It took a few minutes, but the walls and furniture began to register, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he'd ended back up in his apartment. He didn't remember much about the drive home from the shop, only scattered laughter as the other Saints tried to show off what they'd picked, but he did recall fumbling for the key as he shoved it at the lock, and collapsing soon after.

But as he shifted he'd forgotten one other thing. Well, maybe not so much forgotten, but willfully ignored as he tried to move his head, and felt his upper back throb and complain with every motion. The tattoo on his back was fresh, and unlike the one he'd put on his forearm years back, this one was going to be a pain in the ass to work with and tend. And from his position on the couch – shirt off, face down, and with a headache already calling – he knew he was in for a day, if not a week.

Then his phone rang. The sharp sound made him squeeze his eyes shut as he pushed himself up with a groan, pain prickling along his skin the entire time, but he managed to grab his cell off of the coffee table before it stopped ringing.

“Hey,” he croaked, clearing his throat before speaking up again. “What's up?”

“ _Morning,”_ Troy's eyes snapped open, and stayed open as Johnny's voice came through loud and clear. _“You awake? Julius says he needs a group to run down to the factories. Interested?”_

Troy sat there as his muddled brain ran through the request, and immediately started scanning his apartment for any sign of his discarded shirt. “Yeah. Very. Head to the church, or...?”

“ _Yeah, get your ass here, and drop by his office. Don't be late.”_

Gat hung up, and Troy let the phone drop to the couch as he climbed to his feet.

Maybe he'd added that notch after all.


	54. You call that a smile?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done for the prompt Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips. Photo shoots are serious business, right? Not with these two involved. Pre-SR3.

V made a face. Made one, then another as she tried like hell not to fidget, and failed. Her spot on Johnny's lap didn't give her too many options, but she was finding it hard to care as the spotlights threatened to blind her. Too many redos for the photo shoot had already been called by the director, leaving her ready to ooze into the floor out of sheer boredom. With nowhere to go or move to, the two were essentially confined to one spot and told to grin and bear it.

Loud 'suggestions' paired with the bright lights bearing down on them only served to be the icing on the cake, and although V could bullshit her way through it well enough, Gat had a threshold. One that never took much to meet, and every tip pitched their way pushed him closer to that limit. Tested him and his already thin patience, and she had a feeling today was shaping up to be a winner.

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she tried to find a comfortable position to shift into, and she tried not to think about the fingers pressing into her hip.

“They still going at it?” Johnny asked, giving up to lean back against the couch.

The loud yelling happening in the hallway carried more than enough for them to pick the words out, and cameraman they were stuck with couldn't stop fidgeting on his feet. Though the stare the pair of them were currently leveling at him wasn't helping any.

“Yep.” Gat pulled her with him, and she couldn't help but lean into his shoulder as they waited. Draping her arm around the back of his neck, her fingers idly toyed with the collar of his shirt as the argument grew in volume.

“About the lighting?”

She blew at a strand of hair, but it fell right back into place. “Oh, yeah. Pierce is letting him have it. It's pretty damn amazing.”

“But we're still on?”

“Uh, yes.” The frown grew severe, and V wasn't sure what to say. “You want out? I think I can cover for you if you want to book it to the exit.”

“No point. We'll be back to this shit the following day, and I'm not going back in there.”

“The dressing room? Really? You got the easy end of things,” she muttered, looking him over with envy. He was wearing _jeans._ She would've killed for that alone, but the pinstriped shirt he was wearing left her stewing for a good minute when they walked out to start the shoot. “Seriously, did they raid your closet? I think I remember you buying this.”

She flicked at one of the buttons and he shrugged. Half of them were already undone, and she was seeing more of his chest than was strictly necessary. That, and the way the muscles in his stomach tensed and relaxed with every motion. Two points of interest that she did not need to notice with him this damn close.

“Anyway,” she said quickly, tearing her eyes off of him, “you're fucking gold, because you don't have this to worry about.” The short red dress was already running high enough to raise eyebrows, but any higher and there would be no hiding the line of her garters. “And these things?” She turned her hands over and arched her fingers to accentuate her inch-long, violently bright purple fingernails. “I feel like I've got kitten mittens on. Can't do a damn thing.”

“You agreed to it.”

She pursed her lips, and met the glare he shot her way with one of her own. “And? I can't bitch about it?”

“No.”

“Come on. Not even a little?”

She inclined her head ,and pouted just enough for the corner of Gat's mouth to edge down even further. “Fuck no.”

“Well, too bad. You're going to hear me do it anyway.” Her thumbnail clicked against the nail on her index finger, and she saw Johnny cringe. “Should've opted for something shorter. Or gloves. Yeah, gloves would've been the ticket.”

She shook her hands out, and he chuckled. “Sure. Wouldn't have had you flapping your arms like a fucking chicken, though.” Narrowing her eyes, V traced one of her nails up the side of one of his tattoos, and nearly fell off of him when he jumped. “Keep those fucking things up and off of me, or I'm sanding them down one by one.”

She grinned. “Ooh, touchy, touchy.”

The wary look he gave her over the edge of his sunglasses quickly switched to irritation, but he didn't shove her away or pin her arms down. Only kept on watching her, and when she wiggled her fingers at him, his jaw twitched. “I knew those were motherfucking creepy for a reason.”

* * *

The second part of the shoot called for her to change into a purple number. Something with a long, flowing skirt that made her almost stumble over it on the way back. The snicker from Gat made her flip him off immediately, but when she noticed the suit, she couldn't help but look him over. Suits – and uniforms – were her kryptonite, and Johnny was Johnny. It'd be a shame not to look, or at least that's what she told herself when they got into position on the bed.

“We skipped groceries this week, didn't we?” she asked once the shoot was underway.

Johnny paused as he leaned forward over her legs, and raised an eyebrow. “Thought you had that done?”

“...I thought it was your turn.” He gave her a look, and V tried not to hit her head against the cushions. “Dammit.”

“Yo, we had this set,” he said, keeping himself propped up on one arm as he lowered his glasses. “First week of the month's you. Second, me. Third Pierce, and then Shaundi, and it always cycles back.”

“I know, I know, I just...it slipped my mind.”

“Did last time too.”

“Hey!” she objected. “My memory's not that bad!”

“Oh? I think it's fucking worse than what you're telling me.”

He moved closer, and V planted her heel on his chest. “Shut up.”

The look of surprise turned into a slow grin, and when his fingers wrapped around her ankle, she shivered. Watched those lips continue to curve into a full-blown smirk and wished she could hate it. “You know I'm right, V.”

His grip remained light, but his hand was still warm against her skin.

The cameras flashed while she pushed him back, and she hoped that whatever shade of red her face was could be fixed in post-production.

* * *

“The hell are we selling again?”

“Perfume.” V thought it over for a second, and twisted her mouth. “I think. Or hell, maybe the condoms. The bed gave me some mixed messages, but it's all advertising bullshit anyway.”

Gat groaned, and when the director barked at them both to get into position again she caught the tail end of the sneer Johnny sent his way. “How many more of these do we have?”

She grimaced. “I lost count.”

He grit his teeth, and when Pierce dragged the director back into the hall, V tapped her nails on Johnny's shoulder. He was back in the shirt from earlier, the one that he deliberately left unbuttoned enough to make anyone's eyes wander, and she pursed her lips. Tried not to smudge her lipstick, but began chewing at her lip anyway as the yelling only grew louder.

After a few minutes, she felt his eyes move over her. His breath tickled her skin as they sat there, and she counted the seconds one by one as her mouth went dry.

“This is hell, isn't it?” she asked idly, tugging at his collar. His hand had settled into a comfortable place on her waist, and the moment she touched him, he tensed. “Or would purgatory fit better?”

He didn't answer, but when her nails skimmed his neck, she only had enough time to yelp before he gathered her up and stood. One of the fake purple things nearly snapped off when she grabbed for his shirt, and he deposited her in front of the photographer, before storming right past him.

“Hey!” The guy took a step after Johnny, but didn't pursue. “You can't-”

“Fuck off,” Gat shot, heading towards the doors.

Her arms pinwheeled while she regained her balance, and both of her hands rested on her knees as she watched him kick the doors to the hall open. The yelling cut off soon after. “Great. I had such high hopes for this one.”

“This one?” The guy swallowed, and let out a laugh. “What happened to the last?”

"Better not to know, hon," V replied, waggling her eyebrows. “Let's just say there's a damn good reason we've started requiring a waiver.”


	55. Lucky shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you all know, the next few one-shots are on the shorter end, and focus on a series of kiss prompts I received on Tumblr. This first one takes place post-SRIV in that lovely gap where the Saints have a time machine that's in need of some serious (mis)use.

Bowling was something V had a thing for. She didn't proclaim it loudly from the highest rooftops, but whenever she reached for the shiniest bowling ball on hand and stood in front of her lane, a rush gripped her. Made her feel amazing every time she managed to roll the ball in a perfect, glorious line towards victory.

Stilwater had some decent places, and she recalled tearing up more than a few with the others back in the day, but Steelport had some fine lanes. Ones with proper lighting, and although the cheese fries weren't as kickass as the ones back home, they worked, and today she wanted them badly. So, after one heavy sigh from Kinzie, and a few scattered keystrokes, V was one plate of fries richer, and didn't hesitate to drag anyone and everyone with her.

While she couldn't snag everyone, she did manage to get a few takers. Shaundi she owed a few decent games to after getting slammed years back, and there was at least three-hundred dollars down on a victory over Pierce. Johnny, however, was a grudge match waiting to happen, and when he gestured towards the lanes V couldn't clear a path to an empty one quick enough.

Games flew by as she rediscovered her groove, losing the first to Shaundi, while falling behind on the next to Pierce and Johnny, but on the fourth she was sure she had it back. That smooth momentum that had her knocking down pins left and right. She held onto it tight as she waited for her name to come up next on the queue, and when the screen flashed, showing one large pixelated V, she took point.

"Okay," she breathed, inhaling and exhaling slowly as she hefted the glitzy, purple bowling ball. Not too heavy, and not too light, it was perfectly balanced in her hands and hadn't failed her once that game. "Be assertive. Be assertive. Don't think, just roll."

She crouched, her eyes narrowing as they scanned the lane, and sweeping the ball behind her cleanly, she brought it forward in a smooth arc and let go. It flew as her heart pounded, her body frozen in place, until it slammed into the pins and sent every last one to the floor.

"Hell yes!" V punched the air with a loud cheer as Pierce gave her an appreciative whistle, and she enveloped him and Shaundi in a tight hug, giddy as hell to have pulled it off.

She didn't hesitate to flash Johnny a victorious grin either. With only one turn to go, the two of them had pulled ahead of the others, but that last strike had given her a clear lead. One that he would have to nail perfectly to beat. So, if she decided to gloat a little to herself, she did. And if she didn't drop her smug grin when she sauntered over to him, she tried not to wear it too, too long. Even if this was the best game she'd had in years, and Gat had to be on the fence right now.

"Admit it."

"Admit what?" Johnny asked, leaning against the console with his bowling ball tucked against his side.

"That I'm pretty kick ass at this for starters, but I think that strike proved one other important thing."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Oh?"

"That I've got it in the fucking bag," she replied, putting her hands on her hips. "You're going to have to pull off some serious moves to trump that, Gat. Maybe work some black magic on the lanes, because I think I'm finally going to break that streak of yours."

"That so?"

"I know so."

He glanced up at her score, considering it for a good long minute as she stood there and rocked on her feet, and he shrugged. Then brushed a hand over the bowling ball as he walked briskly over to the line and sent it rolling down the lane without a single thought.

No waiting, no aiming, no waffling, nada.

And when she heard the screen yell out a strike, V felt her grin go brittle. It didn't take a math whiz to tell her what the fake fireworks did, and by the time he turned, her expression was barely distinguishable from a grimace.

"Now, I don't know about you," Johnny began, walking right back over to her with just enough of a swagger to go with the smug smile gracing his face, "but I think it holds. Thoughts on that, boss?"

Her mouth twisted, and she bit down hard on her tongue to keep from responding. Then failed when her cheek twitched. "Lucky shot."

Chuckling, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, real lucky."


	56. Timing's everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V takes a stab at sneaking. It doesn't exactly work according to plan. SR1!

Sneaking wasn’t her thing. She could do it sure, but if there was anyone that gravitated towards that lone twig, or hit a set of chimes, it would be her. That didn’t stop her from trying of course, but she accepted that it could blow up in her face. And badly, at that.

This time she didn’t have to worry about her horrible demise, however. But she still didn’t want to botch it, because sneaking up on Troy was a rarity. He kept his eyes up and on everything like a hawk, so when she slipped in through the open door to the LTs’ shared office, she didn’t expect to find his back turned. The smoke from his cigarette drifted into the air as he remained focused on the papers in front of him, and when she managed to close the door behind her with a small creak, she waited to hear him call out to her. Nothing but silence followed as he flipped another sheet over, so once she was sure he was distracted, she took her first few steps closer.

Tiptoeing over, as quietly as she could manage, she crept forward at a snail’s pace. One wrong step onto an old floorboard and her efforts would be a complete waste.

Her teeth dug into her lip as she took one step, then another. No sounds were made, her lungs were starting to burn from holding her breath, but she could take it. All she had to do was cross another foot and she’d be golden.

“V?”

She froze, literally inches from his back.

He raised the cigarette to his lips and didn’t bother to turn. “I know you’re there.”

V groaned and stood up straight. “Seriously. Was it the creak?”

“Kind of.” Troy glanced over his shoulder and gave her a wry grin. “You didn’t immediately charge in and prop your feet up on the shit I was working on, so Johnny was out. Dex at least knocks if the door’s closed half the time, so he was out as well.”

“So I was a sure bet?”

“Close enough.” He moved his eyes over her as he took a long draw off of his cigarette and exhaled. “Might’ve hoped for it, though.”

“Really?” The corner of her mouth rose as he turned back to the paperwork scattered across his desk, and she placed her hands on the back of his chair. “That bored, chief?”

“Bored’s a little strong. Just-” Her fingers grazed the skin right above the collar of his polo, and his breath caught. “…Busy.”

She tugged the collar back slightly, and grazed his upper back with the tip of her fingernail. “Real busy, judging from that mess, eh?”

“Enough. Thought I’d get a head start before it piled up again.”

“So, it’s not urgent?” She pressed her lips to his skin and flicked her tongue out. “Super serious?”

“No,” Troy replied, leaning into it. “Not one fucking bit.”

Sucking lightly on the spot, she heard his shaky inhale, and traveled to the side of his neck. The small tugs with her lips and teeth had him reaching back for her, nearly knocking her hat right off. He placed it onto the table, and tangled his hand in her hair shortly after, the grip tightening just enough to make her suck harder.

“I don’t know what it is with you,” she breathed, catching his earlobe between her teeth. “I see you bent over this shit, and I just can’t help it.”

He let out a short laugh. “You’ve gotta fuck with me?”

“Well, it’d be a damn shame not to try. You get this dead serious expression on your face, like you’ll never smile again, and I can’t deal with it. Like it’s my sworn duty to make a fool out of myself until you do.”

“That’s a noble cause.”

V grinned against his neck, and it grew wider when she caught a glimpse of his own. “I thought so too. Though you know you can always tell me to come back later. To try again when we’re not in danger of having some extra company.”

He put his cigarette out, and leaned back to cup her chin. “You could.”

“Would be pretty wise. I mean, someone could come waltzing in any second now.”

The look in his eyes, the one that dared her to keep on going, remained strong as he wet his lips. “Gotta be quick then. And quiet.”

“Quiet’s not exactly my strong suit.”

“True. Want to try?”

When Troy drew her down, she met him eagerly. Kissed him roughly as he grabbed for her shoulders, and her fingers wound into his hair. He tried to tease, even when he opened his mouth to her, but when her tongue slid against his, he pulled her closer. Tried to get her onto his lap as she leaned over him, but she didn’t budge. V kept on moving her tongue, as she angled her head to kiss him deeper, and sucked gently on his lower lip.

When his low moan finally slipped out, she nipped at him. “Careful,” she chided, pulling back. “That rule goes both ways, you know.”

Breathing hard, he gave her a look before hooking his fingers in the pockets of her shorts. He twisted in his seat so that he was facing her directly, and guided her forward with a single tug. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed his mouth to her stomach, then higher, trailing warm kisses over the thin material of her red tank top. Each one lingered, and made her want to strip the thing off so she could feel that heat directly against her skin, but she waited. Made herself do so while biting back any response to the way he was touching her, because this location should’ve _screamed_ bad idea to them.

The fact that this one didn’t – like so many of the others she’d already shared with him - had her head spinning, and left her giddy with excitement as she tried to stay calm, but couldn’t. Not with him glancing up at her like he was, those eyes of his making her want to pull him out of his chair so they could make better use of the desk. She’d thought it over more than once. Spent probably more time than necessary dreaming about it while touching herself, and the idea of him actually taking her over it only made her flush deeper.

He drew the zipper to her shorts down just enough to start sliding them over her hips, and he leaned forward to move his mouth over her skin. Hooking the corner of her underwear, Troy moved it just enough to suck at the skin over her hipbone, working at it for a solid minute until she was sure there would be a mark later that day. That had her nails going into his shoulders, but when his tongue ran over the same spot, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. A loud curse slipped out, but he didn’t go straight into a lecture. He only moved his hand between her legs, and pressed his fingers firmly into the denim. Rocking with him, it didn’t take long for her hums to turn into sharp gasps, and when his mouth went back to her skin, she wondered if he would actually do it. Get her perched up and on the corner of the desk like she’d fantasized about before, his hand between her legs instead of hers.

A loud whistle from the inside of the church made her jump away with a jolt, and after exchanging a panicked look with Troy, her eyes went straight to the closed door. Fumbling at her shorts as he straightened his clothes out, she knew her face was red. Completely blazing red, judging from how much heat was coming off of it, and she grabbed her hat and pulled the brim down low before booking it towards the exit.

The door flew open before she could touch the handle, but she didn’t wait long. Just pushed right on past Johnny and hoped like hell he didn’t get a good look at her.


	57. Rise and shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are days when you don't want to get up, and others where you literally can't. Not for lack of trying, of course. Post-SRIV!

"Hey." V blew a puff of air out of her mouth, and it barely moved Johnny's hair. "Hey, you."

Nothing. Only a small shift that had his hair tickling her chin, and she swore under her breath.

Sometime during the night he'd chosen to switch from his pillow to her, and before she'd been cool with it. Now, however, she needed to get up. To be productive around the ship, or at least try for it, but he wasn't helping at all.

Resting by her like this made any motivation want to take a hike, but the amount of heat he was putting off was starting to go from divine to a few notches above comfortable. Any longer and she'd have to kick the blankets off, and part of them were wedged under his body. Which was draped over her. An odd dilemma if she ever had one, but she couldn't stay in bed with Gat all the time. Even as much as she wanted to, and as much as he made it oh-so-easy to consider.

She watched him take in slow breaths as she ran her fingers through his hair, and shook her head. "I know you're awake."

Johnny made a low sound, but stayed right where he was. The muscles in his throat flexed, though, and she traced a finger over the tattoos lining his neck. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't open his eyes. Only curled the arm resting over her tighter as he tugged her close.

It was almost too perfect of a picture to disturb, and the bastard had to know it.

V let out a long sigh. "Dammit. Can you quit it?"

"Quit what?" he murmured, his voice muffled by her skin.

"I need to get up. _We_ need to get up, and get some shit done. I'm not holding out any hope for you motivating yourself out of here, but I figure I can give it a shot. Try to lug you up and off of me since I can't run a gang from here, you know."

He propped his chin up, and her fingers slipped back into his hair again. "Could try. They can fucking deal."

"Oh?"

"Here, there. It all works."

"Right. Because I'd do a great job of directing people while naked under a sheet."

"Don't know. You ain't half-bad at tossing out orders. Clothed and otherwise." She flicked his arm and he chuckled, the low sound running through her as well. "More practice won't hurt."

V's eyebrows went up, but when he raised his head to lean in she ducked away. "I don't know. Meetings do get heated from time to time."

"Sometimes," he said, lifting himself up as he traced his eyes over her.

"And I can be pretty fucking flexible when it comes to finding a compromise, but you've got some ways of making your point, Gat. Ways that I'm not too sure the others need to actually catch in action."

He brushed against her thigh, and she spread her legs so he could move between them. Lowering himself down, he pressed a kiss to the base of her throat, and ran his tongue along her collarbone. "Worried I'd bend you over mid-argument, boss?"

"Worried? After the last few I thought that was guaranteed?" she teased, and tried to move her hips with him. "Though there was that one time-"

He caught her mouth, and she grinned as he pressed her into the bed. Her short breaths barely made it past her lips, each one lost in the sounds coming out of him, and when his tongue went deep she dug her nails into his arms. Felt his hand slip into her hair as more of his weight shifted onto her, and she angled her head to tug at his bottom lip before he stole her breath again.

Her jaw was locked tightly against his when her brain remembered one important fact, however. Oxygen was pretty key, and right now she wasn't getting much of it, judging by the burning in her lungs.

"Gat." He kissed her firmly, and she had to shake herself out of it partway through it, when not even his tongue could detract from the fact that she needed more air. "Holy hell, just put all of that on pause for a few seconds, okay?"

He broke away and gave her a heavy-lidded look that had her pulse running. "What?"

"Babe, I need air." He gave her a look, but shifted enough so she could take in a long, deep breath. "Oh, that's good. Now if you could just pop yourself on over to the other side of the bed for five to ten, that'd be super."

"For real?"

"You're like twenty tons of bricks. Not exactly the lightest thing I've ever had on me. Jesus." She tried to move herself, but was so wrapped around him it was impossible. "And I'm supposed to be rejoining society, here. Stop luring me back in, and acting like a giant paperweight."

Her lips were still tingling, and she tried to avoid chewing on them as Johnny took more weight off of her.

"Better," she said, her eyes on his.

"But not good enough yet?"

His tongue wet his bottom lip, and her fingers itched to yank him down to her mouth again. "Not quite."

"Come on," he replied, less than an inch away as he leaned down. "This ain't nothing."

Against her better judgment she met him, and caught his lip between her teeth. Her hips rose soon after, and he took in a quick breath. "Nothing, eh? You want to show me something then?"

His tongue dipped into her mouth, and she let out a small noise when he withdrew. "Sure thing, boss."

And he dropped onto her, only at such a slow rate that she had no idea what was happening until it was too late. Her little yelp did nothing to help as she tried to hold him up, but their position left her arms wobbling in their struggle to support his weight.

"You good?" Gat asked, flicking his eyebrows up.

Holding her breath, V pursed her lips and said nothing as she held on, and hoped like hell that her elbows wouldn't buckle. After an eternity, he clucked his tongue and lifted himself up. The relief that swept over her was incredible as her arms fell, and she let herself breathe deeply for a few minutes until she caught the smug expression gracing his face. "Motherfucker," she huffed, scowling.

He winked. "Better get on those weights, V. You're slipping."

The swipe didn't even come close to hitting him as he rolled off of her, and threw on his suit in no time flat. She nearly tripped on hers as she scrambled to get it on, but the minute she did she ran off after him, staying on his heels all the way to the showers.


	58. Next time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy's not used to getting visitors at this hour. Between SR2 and SR3!

Troy had high hopes for this day when he woke up. He’d hit the office early, cut through the last set of papers from the night before, and have most of it organized and ready to go by lunch. Two phone calls and one informal meeting later, he found himself staring down a stack of papers twice the size of the one he had left, and wasn’t sure there was an end in sight.

Somehow he managed to thin it down to a more reasonable mountain to attempt to scale the following day, but part of it was coming home with him that night. No matter how many feats of bureaucratic finesse he pulled out of his hat, it was only going to lead to more shit tomorrow if he didn’t try to get a head start on it.

Troy climbed out of his car, and grabbed the stack of papers in the passenger seat before crushing the stub of his cigarette beneath his shoe. There wasn’t much left of it, and seeing as he had yet to finalize what the hell they were doing for the fundraiser next month, he was going to have reach for another before the night was out. Maybe two, if the coffee he paired it with lacked its usual kick.

His eyes were on his watch when he unlocked the front door, so when he stumbled, there was no warning for it. The papers in his hands flew all over the place, as he swore loudly and struggled to regain his footing. Clenching his teeth, he grabbed for the last few in the air, but gave up when he noticed the red boots by his feet. Both were lightly scuffed, and piled right by the door, haphazardly tossed there after being removed.

A loud sound made his hand jump to his firearm, but the dull explosion that followed made him shift so he could get a clear look at the living room. The lights were on, along with the television, and he took in the flashing images as he slid the door shut behind him. He locked it and set the deadbolt, before slowly stepping right over the mess scattered in the doorway. A low whistle followed a familiar rhythm as he moved further inside, and by the time he reached the kitchen the sound rose to a high note.

Troy blinked at the woman rummaging through his refrigerator, and if he hadn’t tripped over her boots on the way in, the purple fleur emblazoned on the back of V’s red leather jacket would’ve been a dead giveaway. Her whistling faded to a hum as she continued her search, poking around without any sign of unease as he gaped at her back. She stood up straight when she managed to find her prize, and the beer bottle dangling from her fingers nearly fell to the floor the moment he caught her eye.

Righting herself after the non-jump didn’t take long, but that didn’t stop the nervous laugh from slipping out. “Uh, hi,” she said, reaching for the bottle opener on the counter. “Long night?”

The lid popped off, clattering to the floor somewhere to their right, and Troy felt his eyebrows crease.

“Lots of shit crossing your desk, eh?” She tilted the beer back, and leaned her shoulder against the wall. Her red jacket was undone, and he watched her fingers play with zipper as her eyes darted from the bottle to him. “All sorts of boring stuff, right? Hungry? Pizza should be here in ten.”

“How did you-”

“Online order,” V said, “You had a number to a place on your fridge, but I decided to skip the whole calling bit. Strange women calling from the Chief’s would’ve been fun to explain, though I don’t think much explaining would’ve been needed. Still, better safe than sorry. Pepperoni good?”

Troy raised his eyes. “Did you pick the lock?”

“I…” Troy gave her a look. “Okay, fine. I did, but I didn’t fuck with it too much. And no one saw me, because I know you’re going to ask about that. You have some neighbors that are nosy as hell, but I picked a time when they weren’t looking. Promise.”

He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “V, I would’ve given you a spare.”

She studied him for a few minutes, tilting her head as she considered him. The moment it sunk in, however, her posture went rigid. “Oh.”

A minute passed as he watched her start to seriously chew on the corner of her lip, and after taking another swig of her beer, she put it down on the counter and tried to cut past him. He intercepted her, and cut off her next words with a kiss. V made a noise as her arms flew up, but relaxed into it when his hand moved to cup her face. They stood there, half in his kitchen, and half not, his attention completely taken by the way her mouth moved against his.

“You know,” she said after a minute, “I didn’t just break in for the hell of it.”

He didn’t deepen the kiss, but the touch of her tongue had him wanting to. “No?”

“Would’ve done it weeks ago, if that was the case.” His thumb moved over her cheek, and she wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “I got impatient. It’s been tough waiting for a free moment for either of us.”

Private and tucked away, his hotel room had been the ideal place for them to escape to. To get away for a little while, and breathe easy for once. However, it had been weeks since their last night together, and with events on his schedule amping up, it didn’t seem like they would be able to get back there anytime soon.

He did manage to see her the week before, but it was at a meeting with Ultor. One of the driest talks on record, if he remembered it right, and when she slid into the chair next to him, his eyes spent more time on her than the slides. Especially when she started playing with a loose strand of her hair, twirling it idly around her fingers. The urge to touch her again, even innocently, had him lighting up a cigarette in no time flat, and when she asked for one, he didn’t chance it. Just passed her the pack across the table, and fixed his eyes on the people talking in front of them.

Their next meeting was a few days out, but he’d been swamped. He barely had time to call or text, and as good as it was to hear her voice, it had nothing on this. Because he still couldn’t believe it in a way. That she wanted to be here – was here - close and in his arms.

When her tongue slipped into his mouth, he followed her lead. Let her tug him close by his jacket, while he wrapped his arms around her, and took her in. Her sighs, the hint of citrus that always came with her perfume, all of it. It took him a few seconds to reel his senses in, but he did, and he gazed at her warmly. “Stepping out during a meeting would raise a few eyebrows,” he murmured.

“It would.” The next kiss – and the way V curled her tongue - made his fingers press into her lower back. “Probably piss off Gryphon too.”

“And you’re already enough of a handful.” The bite he received caused him to suck in a breath. “…Okay, I might’ve earned that one.”

“Damn straight. But on another topic, the pizza guy’s going to be here soon, so…we might want to slow down. Since you’ll probably want to be wearing clothes when you answer. Propriety and all that shit.”

It would help. It would also help if he didn’t have an erection, but judging by the tightening of his pants, he was already failing that fast. Swallowing hard, he extricated himself from her and stepped back. Getting a better look at her flushed face, or her growing grin, didn’t help in the slightest, so he went for the one thing he could handle.

“Just…give me a second,” Troy said, and ran a hand over his face before making his way back to the door.

The distance cleared some of the fog, but the shaky breath he took in as he gathered the papers by the front told him it wasn’t going to be that easy. Not with the way his heart rate spiked.

“You want some help, Chief?” she asked, her tone low.

He shoved more of the papers into an order he could work with, and chanced a glance over his shoulder. Her fingers tugged at her gloves as her eyes raked over him, and he turned away when her eyebrows went up. “Help? Sure. Don’t know if you’re offering the kind I’m looking for right now.”

“Oh, give me some credit. I can keep my hands to myself. Even down on my hands and knees with you, I think I can exercise _some_ self-control.”

Looking up at her again, he noticed the way her lips were parted, and glanced back at the pile in his hands. “Fuck it,” he muttered, dropping it.

The broad grin on her face went wicked when he reached her, and she let out a laugh the moment he swept her up. It wasn’t far to his room at all, but with her mouth on his it was far enough.

* * *

“It wasn’t too awkward, was it?” V took a large bite out of the slice of pizza, and swallowed it down. “I mean, robes aren’t all that bad. That guy had to have seen worse. Years ago, I knew someone who used to deliver, and he spent half his time going to Stilwater U. That was some wild shit.”

“Sure, but the moment some guy in a bathrobe shoves a wad of bills at your face, you can only draw so many conclusions.”

Troy took a long drag off of his cigarette, and tried not to think too hard about the look of amusement on the delivery guy’s face. Disheveled and grumpy as hell, he had to have been a sight when he answered the door, barely exchanging ten words with him. The money left his hands, and the moment the transaction was over, and the door securely shut behind him, he’d left the dark blue bathrobe right in the living room. …Where it still was, actually, if he angled his head just right to catch it.

Now in a pair of pajama pants and a white t-shirt, he felt every muscle in his body ease as the tension melted away. The vice grip on his nerves that had kept him puffing away at his cigarettes a few hours had loosened completely, and he relaxed into the couch next to V as they caught a rerun of the football game he missed earlier that night.

The silly grin still hadn’t faded from her face, and whenever she flashed it at him, he was tempted to return it. She slid closer to him, making the gray t-shirt he’d lent her ride up, and nudged him with her elbow. “You told him to keep the change, right?” Troy glared at her, only to receive a shrug in response. “What? It’s a valid question. If you wanted to swap bills, I could’ve waited.”

“Waited? With the grip you had on me before I went out there?”

“Yes,” she scoffed, blushing. “Well, not that I wanted to, but I could’ve.”

Her lips had been wrapped around him when the bell rang, both of his hands tangled in her hair, and while he froze, she hadn’t. She kept up the speed, sucking him harder as her tongue moved over him, and it took another ring of the doorbell for his self-control to finally kick in and ask her to stop. Even then, with her leaning over him, red-faced and panting, he’d almost pulled her right back down again.

With her eyes on him as he tossed on the robe, he knew all it would take was one step closer to her for that last sliver of willpower to break. And judging by her heated look at the time, hers had been just as frayed.

So he didn’t hesitate to say the first thing that came to mind. “Bullshit.”

V took another chunk out of her pizza. “Uh huh. Says the man that nearly dropped the box on the way back in.”

Troy felt his face heat as he put his hand over his eyes. The papers really were a lost cause now, until he made new copies that weren’t crumpled. The fact that he nearly wiped out because of them was only adding salt to the wound. “Touche.”

She put the plate down and guided the hand with his cigarette to her mouth. Her lips brushed against his fingers – applying just enough pressure for him to call it a kiss - and after taking in a long inhale, she leaned back to exhale a ring.

It wasn’t bad, and the corners of his mouth quirked up when it held its shape. “I see you’ve been practicing.”

Her tentative glance at him brightened. “A bit. I’ve picked up a few tricks too.”

He kissed her hand, and slipped the cigarette between her fingers. “Like?”

Withdrawing to her side of the couch with a smile, V draped her legs over his lap and shrugged. “Nothing fancy, just fun more than anything.” Taking one last draw, she didn’t do anything special with the smoke that left her lips. Just let it out in an easy blow, and pulled over the glass ashtray on his coffee table to set the cigarette down. “Some of them do take two, though, so I might have to get your assistance for those.”

His hand ran over the tattoo curling up her leg, tracing the lines as they wound up and around her knee. The dragon was gorgeous, something that had to have taken some serious time in the chair, and the longer he studied it, the more details he picked out. The scales, the deep colors, all of it was bold against her skin, and that he was able to get this close of a look at it now wasn’t lost on him one bit.

He noticed her tilt her head out of the corner of his eye, and when she moved forward he helped her settle onto his lap. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, then to his jaw. He let her keep on going for a few minutes, letting the heat from her body sink into him, and closed his eyes.

“I’ll call ahead next time,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin. “Give you some warning before I drop by, so I don’t spook you or the neighbors. It’d be a pain in the ass if I did, right?”

_Next time._ Troy leaned into her, and when she relaxed against him, he buried his face in her hair. “Getting a call about the head of the Third Street Saints loitering on my property? It’d be something.”

“And then Jane would come around, and yeah. Kind of a clusterfuck in the making.” V kissed his jaw, and held him tighter. “Would ruin your night too, I bet. But that’s only if I get caught.”

“Might want to be careful then, eh?”

He guided her lips back to his, and felt her grin. “Yeah, real careful.”


	59. Out of place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V and Carlos give the old jailbreak thing a try, and once that's all said and done, she's not sure what she's left with. SR2!

The ground rocked beneath V's feet. She didn't remember ever being seasick, but as she fell against the side of the boat, she found it difficult to keep the bile rising in her throat down. Adrenaline kept her going as Carlos led the way, but now she wasn't sure what was getting to her more: the water surrounding her, or the words he'd dropped earlier.

Five years. Five years gone. Everyone gone.

It didn't make any sense. None of it, and she didn't want to accept any of it as actual fact, so she pushed it away. Chose to focus on the air she kept on trying to suck down, and not the rocking beneath her feet. She needed to be present. Alert. For her, and for the guy who'd been willing to get shanked to talk to her, for fuck's sake. Luis's brother. His fucking brother, of all people. Yet another thing that failed to register properly, but she could go over that later.

When they realized they weren't being tailed any longer, they slowed the boat into a calm drift. V tried not to focus on the water, but the salt in the air made it impossible to ignore. Pushing away from the edge, she tried not to retch, and gagged.

“Never been on a boat?”

She wiped her mouth, and turned towards Carlos. He was still at the controls, but stepped away once they confirmed that the cops had let up. For a second he seemed just as uneasy as her, but he shook it off. Or tried to, as he offered her a weak smile. “Other than...before?”

“Jet-skis, yes,” V said. “This shit, no. Never had the time to take Sharp's yacht out for a victory lap.”

“We'll be back on land soon. Nothing like solid fucking ground. I try not to think about it, but it's the bobbing.” Carlos made a motion with his hand, mimicking the boat’s movements almost perfectly. “Makes you sick without even trying.”

She forced herself to stand up straight, but the minute she found a place to lean on by him, she took it. Her steps weren't back to normal yet, and falling on her ass wouldn't be the best way to convince someone she was on top of her shit.

V glanced at the blood staining Carlos' jumpsuit and gave him a wary look. This close, it was easier to catch the way his jaw flexed when he moved, and after the shit they pulled it’d be a miracle if he hadn’t torn something. “Carlos?”

“Yeah?”

“You're not going to bleed out on me, are you?”

His hand had been drifting towards his side, and he jerked it back. "What? No!"

She got up and paced around the boat, and swore when she found nothing but dirt, and debris. “Dammit. This thing wouldn't have a first aid kit on it.”

“No, I’m-” He took in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “ I’m not lying. I'm fine.”

“Fine?” She put her hands on her hips and huffed. “If you say so, but I've been stabbed a grand total of once, and slashed a bunch of other times, and even then it wasn't pretty.” She walked back over to him, and motioned towards his side. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Uh, sure.”

The zipper caught when Carlos tried to lower it, but he got it down enough to slide the upper half of the suit off. The tank he wore wasn't stained, and when he pulled it up for her to eye his side, the bandage there seemed to be holding up as well.

“Looks like the nurse did a good job. Still doesn't mean you won't catch tetanus, but it's better than nothing, right?”

Carlos watched her closely as she checked the bandage, and took in a steady breath when her fingers touched the edge of it. “If you gotta pick something.”

“Oh, and don't laugh.” V tugged his tank back down and glanced up at him only to catch his odd look. “No, I mean it, it's going to hurt like hell when you bust a gut so...don't.”

He chuckled, and winced halfway through it. “You got it, boss.”

“I'm not your boss,” she snapped. The good humor in his eyes dimmed, and she backpedaled. “Sorry. The real bossman's out there doing who knows what, but he's still the boss. Save the pretty words for him, kid.”

“Kid?”

V bit her tongue, and hoped Carlos didn't catch it. “Yeah, so?”

The incredulous look he was aiming at her only grew in intensity. “You can't be older than me.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I'm sure as hell not younger than you. I'm twenty...” Her mouth went dry. “How...what year did you say it was again?” Carlos repeated it, and V's stomach dropped. “God, I'm twenty-six? Jesus.”

Carlos groaned. “Twenty-four. Guess you are older, after all.”

She sat back on her haunches, and focused on anything but the cold sweat settling over her. It refused to leave, however, and she distracted herself by tapping her fingers against the wood below them. “It's uh, it's not a fight that's so bad to lose. It's not fair for me to call you that, though. Not after the shit you just pulled off.”

He was watching her closely, but the moment she met his eyes, he sat up straighter. “I had to. Couldn't get myself stabbed twice, could I?”

“You...” His words registered, and V found herself trying not to laugh. “Well, it's not the best idea, so working your way through that gets you some kudos. For what it's worth.”

“It was worth a try,” he replied, and followed it up with a smile. “With this out here, and you in there, it made sense.”

She looked over at the city, and took it all in as she climbed to her feet. It hadn't clicked for her before, but her chest tightened with one look at the skyline in front of them. For something she'd looked at hundreds of times over the years without even caring, it hurt to see that much had changed.

A dull pain registered. An ache that traveled from her clenched fist up her arm. She loosened her grip, but when Carlos moved to stand beside her, she had to shake her hands out to get any kind of relief. “Talk to me.”

“About what? What happened?” Carlos looked over at her, and V worked to avoid his eyes. “I thought it'd be easier to get into once you were able to see it. It didn't happen overnight, but it might as well have. A lot of men from Ultor showed up after the explosion. The Row, Shivington, any of the older parts of the town were on their radar, but they went right for the Row first.” He pointed towards a large, dark building jutting up into the clouds. “Do you see that? That fucking eyesore's right in the center of the Row.”

“In the...” A cold feeling settled in her gut again, but this time she couldn't shake it. “There's no place for a building like that in the Row. They'd have to make some serious space for it.”

“They did. I-” His sentence cut off sharply, and when V turned towards him, she wasn’t sure what to make of the way he was gazing at her. “I can go over it,” he started, ducking his eyes, “but it's something you have to see for yourself. The Row's nothing close to what it was.”

“So, no hope for the awesome pizza place down the lane?” she joked. Carlos gave her a quizzical look, and she waved it off. “Sorry, just...forget it. That's for later, though. Gotta figure out what the hell we're going to do the minute we're off of this boat, first. And uh, that.” She gestured towards his midsection, and the hand that Carlos kept clasped over it. “You really should get that looked at.”

They maneuvered the boat towards the nearest dock they could reach. People weren't flooding the area, which gave them just enough leeway to get up and out, but their orange jumpsuits weren't exactly low-key. They needed to be ditched, stat, and in order to do that they needed to find a clothes store that wouldn't ask questions.

“So, Carlos,” V started, as they slipped out of the area and tried to keep their heads down, “any clue where the nearest Sloppy Seconds is?”

“Should be close. I think I remember one a few blocks from here, but...one problem with that, boss.”

She felt her mouth twist, but didn't raise her voice at him. “V. Name's V, okay?”

“V. Okay. We can't walk in there without any cash. I have close to thirty dollars on me, but that won't cover fare and clothes, unless you're going to hold the store up.”

“Well...” She reached for the gun stashed on her, and raised her eyebrows. “That's one way to get what we need.”

When she didn't say anything else, Carlos stared at her, and with those big brown eyes on her, teasing him almost felt mean.

“It's something to consider. We don't have a lot of options, and short of running in and just stealing this shit, we're stuck with what we have. Thirty bucks, a handful of bullets, and moxy. It's not as bad as it sounds. Though, we could always stop someone and ask for a loan.”

“Which they won't mind lending out?”

“We're in need, aren't we?” She cracked a grin at his tone, and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Though, now that you mention it, I did snag a wallet from one of those cops. Let me check real quick.”

Fishing through it, she found a couple of credit cards, their license, and an assortment of ones. The ten dollar bill crumpled up there was a better find, but it still wasn't enough to feel comfortable with, and they hadn't even touched on the issue of getting a reliable car. Most cabbies didn't pry, at least the ones that she'd hailed after busting her car after a shootout gone wrong hadn't, but Carlos had a point. They didn't have a lot of money to burn, and stiffing the driver wasn't something she wanted to consider.

“Well, we're a little richer, but...we still need a ride.”

As they both scanned the area, Carlos pointed towards a nearby lot. “Think they have anything worth starting there?”

“If it has wheels, it's worth starting. You good with wires?”

“I can be,” he said, meeting her expectant look head on. “If there's gas in the tank and four good tires, it'll run.”

“I think this is the start of something beautiful, man.” She tilted her chin towards the lot. “Lead the way.”

Glancing around quickly, they waited a beat before making a break for it. An older car stood out, one that she guessed had a fifty-fifty shot of having a functioning alarm. The window wasn't rolled all the way up, and Carlos disengaged the lock once he slipped an arm inside.

“Looks clear?”

“Looks clear.” V kept her head up, before slipping into the passenger seat. “Though who knows for how long. No pressure, right?”

“None,” Carlos mumbled, prying off the right panel. “Out in the open in the middle of a manhunt? Couldn't ask for better. Could use some music, though.” He sorted through the wires, and took out a knife. “Something with rhythm.”

“Rhythm?” He took a moment to tap out a short beat on the steering wheel, one that she couldn't pick out. “Don't know that song.”

“I'll get the CD and play it for you later. Once we're out of here. It's good. Keeps the silence out when you're bored out of your fucking mind.”

“Or nervous?”

“Yeah. Nervous.”

Carlos' fingers were quick, and V let out a whistle. “Well, you're already doing a hell of a lot better than me. Nearly shocked the hell out of myself. And uh, the guy that taught me.”

He laughed. “That bad?”

“No, just...okay, fine. I was that fucking bad. No judging.” Her head poked up, and she tried not to dig her nails into her palms.

“I won't, but it’s not as bad as it looks. Long as you don’t cut” - he separated one wire from the tangled mess and sliced it -  “the wrong wire.” V barely recognized half of them as he sorted through them, and flinched when he made another cut without even blinking. “After a while it becomes second nature.”

“No shit?”

A smile inched onto his face. “No shit.”

Sammy’s lessons had given her a great foundation, but even now she always had to take a moment to judge if the wire she had was the right one. Watching Carlos work like this - under pressure no less - was pretty impressive. Not a single shock yet, but not even that was working to calm the nerves that kept on building up. “You almost done?”

“Almost. Just have to check-”

“Cause people are starting to wander around, and I really think we should get the fuck out of here.” The engine roared to life, and V clapped a hand over her mouth. “Are we good? Are we good to go?”

“Yeah, it's good! I think we-”

“Punch it! Don't even throw your seatbelt on, just go!”

He hit the gas, and V grabbed for the 'oh shit' bar on the door as they went squealing out of the lot. Cars honked as they struggled to settle into the flow of traffic, but once they were in, they were in. No one tailed them, only swore and threw every obscene gesture in the book.

V relaxed into her seat, but only after flicking the radio on. “So, about that song you were talking about?”

“Yeah?” Carlos asked, hands gripping the wheel tightly.

“Any chance it'll come on in the next five?”

He gave her a tentative glance before changing it to another station. “Only one way to find out.”


	60. You shouldn't have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: V/Troy - things you said with too many miles between us. Set between SR3 and IV, though much closer to IV.

V set her head in her hands, and tried to breathe. Locked in her office, this was the only time she'd been able to isolate herself in the last few weeks, and she wished a pillow was there so she could scream into it.

She liked people. Genuinely liked being around them, and interacting with them, and at times had even managed to use that as a quick pick me up.

Right now all she wanted to do was say, "fuck it" seek out a desert island, and take an extended holiday. The road to the White House wasn't going to be easy, a fact that Ben sure as hell made clear to her once she managed to twist his arm into joining them, but the truth still wore her down. Because what good were good intentions and goals, if no one was going to buy what was coming out of her mouth?

Her phone started buzzing in her pocket, and she groaned. A part of her was sorely tempted to let it keep on going to voicemail, but as she rested there with her cheek to her desk, she knew it would be better to check who it was first.

She dragged it out and glanced at the number. Her heart went into her throat as she sat up, and stared blankly at her cell until her brain forced itself back into gear. Swallowing hard, she quickly answered it and raised the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

_"…Uh, hey."_

"Hey," V replied, her grip tight on the phone. "This is a little out of the blue."

_"Wasn't sure if this was a good time to call with everything going on. I figured I'd hit your voicemail."_

If she'd answered a few seconds later, Troy would've. He would've left a short and quick message, leaving her staring at his number while she worked up the nerve to call him back. The old awkwardness wasn't anywhere near as strong as it used to be, but the fond feeling that came with hearing his voice again only seemed to grow by the day.

She knew better. Told herself not to dwell on it any longer than she needed to, but with that warm sensation settling over her, she couldn't help it. "I'm busy, but who isn't? It's tough work convincing the country that they actually want me in office, but I've got good people backing me up. That has to count for something."

_"Sure,"_ Troy said, with a note of amusement, _"but with a crowd like that it's not going to go far."_

"A girl can dream. Anyway, they've had me running around all day, but I managed to duck out for a bit. And since this is kind of my break, I suppose I can spare a few minutes for Stilwater's Police Chief. So, shoot. What's going on?"

_"You know you didn't have to, right?"_

"Didn't have to…?"

_""Send anything."_  Troy sighed over the line as V processed his statement, and when she didn't reply he spoke up again.  _"It's not every day I come home to a package on my doorstep that isn't some kinda political statement, you know?"_

"I, uh…" Her throat closed up, and she swallowed hard. "Fuck. Um, I should've called ahead. Warned you. The dogs didn't have too much of a field day with it, did they?" she asked, her voice wavering.

_"No. It didn't get mauled,"_  he said with a laugh.  _"Managed to wrestle it away just in the nick of time."_

"Good. Good to hear."

_"I think you were reading my mind, though."_

She tugged at a strand of her hair, and started to wrap it tight around her finger. "Oh?"

_"Yeah. I'd actually busted my watch the month before, but hadn't had time to find a decent replacement yet. Been mostly working off of my phone, but it's a poor substitute."_

"So how'd I do, Chief?" V bit the inside of her cheek, and cursed herself for the slip. "Not too shabby?"

_"Nope. Not at all,"_  he said, warmly, and she wished she could've seen the smile that went with that tone.  _"Fits well, and runs well. You shouldn't have."_

"I remember you used to complain about your old one. It kept slowing down, so I figured maybe this might be the year it'd finally give up the fight. And um…I thought I'd do a little more for you this time around." Troy went silent, and V chewed on the corner of her lip, before quickly replying, "You know. After the last little mess the campaign left, I've been wanting to make it up to you."

_"V. You could've sent a shitty postcard, and I'd have been fine with it."_

"For your birthday? No dice, Troy. Haven't done it before, and I don't want to start now. Besides, it's not every day I get to surprise my fav-"

Two beeps rang out, and she narrowed her eyes at her phone. Another number popped up – Shaundi's – and she sighed deeply.

_"Gotta go?"_  she heard Troy ask, and she nodded.

"Yeah. Shaundi's being nice by calling ahead, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were trying to hunt me down as we speak. It's probably for a meeting, or an interview, or a meeting before an interview. Shit like that. Sorry, it's um, how about…" Her words caught, and she grasped for something, anything.

So, when Troy cleared his throat, V was almost at a loss.  _"Hey, when this all dies down later, or if you ever need a break, you-you know I'm always a call away, right? If you need someone to listen, or to talk about something other than ads or obligations."_

"Later? Not a lot of chances for later."

_"Yeah, I get it, but…if you ever want a minute to talk anything but politics, I'm open."_

"Anytime? Busy guy like you?"

_"Anytime."_

A warm swell hit her again, settling right in her chest. It made her mouth twist, as she considered it, because she knew what her answer should be. What it needed to be. It was better that way - safer, she kept on telling herself.

But while her head knew this, her heart had other ideas, and for once she was set on telling logic to shut the hell up. "Sure. I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." Another beep went through, making her swear under her breath. "Sorry, I've gotta go, but before I forget, happy birthday, Troy. I know it's hard, but relax. Or try to."

_"Easier said than done, but thanks. Take care, V."_

He hung up, and it wasn't until she felt the sting that she realized how hard she'd been chewing on her lip. She shook it off, however, and took in a deep breath before getting up.

Later.

She could work with that.


	61. What's a little hooky?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V asks Troy to take some time off, just to enjoy himself for a bit. What she doesn’t expect is that he’ll take her up on it. Takes place between SR2 and SR3.

_Take a half-day._

_An extended lunch break._

_One super-long smoke break._

_A raid on the office supply cabinet. Area. Whatever_.

That morning she’d written the string of texts expecting to be shot down quickly. Spinning around in her office chair, she waited, expecting to get one back not too long after the smoke break, but the first reply came after the supply cabinet crack.

_You’re not helping, V._

She imagined the exasperated sigh that came with it, and tapped her nails on the desk before typing out her response.  _Like I’m the type to be encouraging any kind of responsible behavior. I mean, I could always see about dropping off a report, but that wouldn’t be the same as stealing you away._

_That’s your goal?_

_One of many. I could go through the rest here, but I’d rather have your ear for that. Graphic detail’s all fine and dandy in print, but you could always call…?_

Her attention went straight to the door of her office when she heard Pierce and Shaundi’s voices, then dropped to the papers in front of her. Any moment now, Pierce would come in and ask if she had any questions about the deal she had yet to finalize, and she’d only made it through the third page before switching gears.

Feeling her nerves prickle, she nearly dropped the phone on her scramble to get back on task. Her phone stayed in her pocket, as she waited for that familiar notification, but it didn’t come. She kept on working, focusing intently, and found herself listening for it long after Pierce had entered the room and joined her.  

The ding finally came when they were getting into the finer details of the clothing line being proposed, and V stopped the anxious clicking of her pen long enough to check her phone.

It wasn’t from Troy. The new message was from Johnny. She blinked at it, and opened it up.

_Busy?_

Pursing her lips, she typed out a quick response and put her phone away.  _Yes. Doing bossly things. Can’t talk much._

It buzzed again, and this time when she took it out she could feel Pierce’s eyes on her.

_Real important shit? Like flicking pencils at the ceiling again? Good luck reaching ten._

She’d beaned a pencil off of her head this morning trying it, and felt her face burn at the lucky guess. _No, you ass,_ she typed, jabbing at the keys. _Business-type shit._

The reply came fast. _Fine. I’ll give you five._

_You got something important to say? Come here and share._

She stashed her phone, knowing damn well that Pierce was watching too. Whistling something that wasn’t even on-key, she gestured for him to continue, and paid no mind to the buzzing in her pocket. Not even a little, as she snagged a nearby pen and started clicking it.

Her teeth went right into her lip when it started ringing however, and her eyes slowly slid towards Pierce when she didn’t move to answer it.

“…Boss?”

“Yeah?”

“You planning on getting that, or…?”

“Or?”

“Not that you’d wait for my permission any, but it could be important.”

Raising her eyebrow at the innocent look Pierce was aiming at her, V did her best not to fidget in her seat, and failed. Miserably. The tone kept on going, and a part of her wished she’d stuck to her old habit of picking out tones. It’d be blaring Push It to the Limit, or…

“Fuck,” she cursed. She wouldn’t know if it was Gat or Troy until she got to see the screen. There was the option of letting it go straight to voicemail. Hell, she was supposed to be working, but it was a fifty-fifty shot. Decent odds, in spite of it being an even split. Digging it out, she sighed deeply and checked the number.

Johnny. Relief washed over her as she pursed her lips, and she raised her phone to her ear as she answered the call. “Hey, my memory’s not that great at times, but I thought I told you to get your ass over here.”

_“If it was important,”_  he replied, and yawned.  _“I’ve got something, but I figured you didn’t want me beating your door down if you were…busy.”_

“I am. And calling in the middle of this’s better? What do you think, Pierce?” Pierce rolled his eyes and her lips curved into a wicked grin. “Oh, he’s not having any of that. I think you’d better apologize.” Johnny chuckled, and the rough edge to the sound made her wonder if he really had been sleeping before calling her. “I’m not fooling around, here.”

_“Oh, I know. Just wondering how you’re going to go about making me, boss. Not so easy when you’re off spinning in some office chair.”_

She sat there –part-way though deciding to pivot the chair again - and wished like hell he’d slip out of that tone. Because with his voice low in her ear like this, she was tempted to keep on enjoying it.  “I can be creative.”

_“How so?”_  he asked, going lower.

Her teeth continued to tease at her lip, and she rolled her eyes. “Do I really need to go over the last time you tried to ask me that? Took me a grand total of five minutes to-” Pierce cleared his throat, and V sat up straight, letting go of the strand of hair she’d been twirling. “Anyway, you do have news, right?”

_“…Some. So?”_

Her phone beeped, and when she scanned the number that left the message, her heart skipped a beat. “So, maybe I’ll have just the thing to pry it out of you later. You feel up to that, call. If not, you’ll just have to be patient. Til then, bye-bye, Gat.”

“Did he say anything about where he was?” Pierce asked the moment she hung up.

“No, why?” Her attention was on Pierce, but she scanned the screen fast as she pulled the unopened message from Troy up.

_Can’t call right now. Meeting soon._

“Cause he’s been acting like I’ve had the plague for the last day and a half. He can keep on pulling that shit, but it’s not going to make it go away. Work’s work.”

“Ain’t it so, eh?” That was the first message, and she kept her face as neutral as she could manage when she looked at the second one from him.

_But maybe you’re right. A half-day couldn’t hurt._

She snorted, and her grin grew fast. “But what do you say I give you a hand with that later tomorrow? Double your odds once we can corner him?”

“You serious?”

“Yeah,” she said, and her grin shifted into a smirk.  “I’ll snag my best net, and we’ll give it a go. Shaundi too, if she wants in. What’ll it hurt?”

* * *

The first strike in her plan to keep things under the radar failed the moment Pierce’s eyebrows went up at her excuse to leave. The second came when she nearly tripped over Shaundi in her rush to hit the elevator.

Act casual. That’s what they always said whenever you were on a mission and couldn’t share all the finer details. What they didn’t tell you was that rambling this to yourself in the hopes that it’d take mid-conversation, wasn’t a guarantee it was going to work. Shaundi would be back to get her to spill later, because giving her a garbled response to a simple “What’s the rush, boss?” didn’t cut it. But that was later, and V could deal with that.

Once she was in the clear, all that was needed was a subtle outfit and some wheels, and she whipped up both in no time flat. The jeans and cap weren’t anywhere near as fun as the secretary getup – one that she’d have to revisit soon – but they were comfortable, and completely devoid of red and purple. Two facts that she needed to make sure she had down.

Wearing either would’ve been an automatic strike three, and with two under her belt, she was hoping to avoid the other entirely. The caution that came with every action involving Troy was something she was used to by now – even if it often went hand in hand with a giddy high that came from every close call – and it kept her fingers tapping against her thigh as she waited close to their meetup point for him.

Soon enough, she spotted a familiar blue cap and well-worn jacket, and when Troy made his approach, she didn’t hide any of her attempts to eye him up. “Hey, stranger,” she said, once he’d slipped into her car. “Going my way?”

His lips were pressed into a thin line, but once his attention shifted to the way she was waggling her eyebrows at him, he relaxed. “You tell me.”

“Well, I was thinking of hitting the diner down the road first thing. Good old burger and fries, not too, too crowded. Or maybe a movie? Some silly thing with too many explosions and not enough one-liners? We could steal the back row, and see how far we get before we say fuck it and cut out.”

“Too many?” he said, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He offered it to her after she’d moved the car back onto the street, and caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “Those are the kind of things you go to the movies for, and hope they don’t skimp on.”

“True.”

“And the woman I know lives for them, so going for anything less’s a damn shame.”

She watched Troy light his cigarette before parking her eyes back on the road. Bad enough that her fingers were already itching to touch him, but watching him for too long was guaranteeing a quick detour to an empty alley. And judging from the way he was looking at her, she doubted he’d have objected.

“Guess you’ll have to set me straight, Chief.”

“Me?”

V watched his eyebrows fly up in the rearview mirror, and slipped the cigarette between her lips.  “Yep. Someone’s gotta.”

* * *

Close to two hours later, she was glad he didn’t.

The movie itself hadn’t shortchanged itself on explosions while being gloriously absurd, and she’d have been content to have it go on forever, if it meant hearing more of Troy’s muffled laughter. She wasn’t as lucky, especially in the face of dialogue like that, and parroted choice lines back to him just when she was sure he was done holding it back. The straight face he tried to maintain cracked fast, and she couldn’t have been prouder.

Soon enough, however, it came to an end, and they slipped out of the exit in the back of the auditorium.

“So, tell me something,” V said, lacing her fingers with Troy’s as they wandered down the back-alley. “Or rather, stop me if this seems like a bad idea.”

“All right. Shoot.”

“We’ve already hit most of the typical elements of a date. A movie, snacks, walking hand-in-hand while making eyes at each other. What do you say we top it off with a little fun?”

“Fun?”

“Like, ‘drag you off back to my place, so I can have my wicked way with you’ fun.”

He came to a stop, but didn’t quite return her coy smile. “You’ve got quite a few places. Not sure if I’d be welcome at any of them, though.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be any of the more popular spots, but…the place I’ve got in mind’s better suited for these kinds of things.”

“You mean your old apartment?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes cut away from her for a few seconds, but not in time for her to miss the hesitation. “Been a while since we’ve been there, huh?”

It being a popular spot for her and Johnny should’ve been enough of a reason for her to shoot it down, but seeing that familiar look in Troy’s eyes for even a second made that old ache return. She thought she’d chased it off for good, but even here with Troy now it was tough to forget the feeling that lingered that night. How good it’d felt to have him there, to touch and feel again after so long, even if she knew she – they - shouldn’t have.

It made her pause when she wanted to do anything but that, and she smashed the feeling down before it was able to take root. “A bit. I…I’ve been thinking about it. A lot, actually. Taking you back there after days like this. Late nights, when you’re wired, and I’m shuffling around too much to get any sleep.”

“Just to work some of that tension off?”

He tried to keep his tone light, but the playfulness there didn’t extend to the look he was aiming at her. “Yeah. I mean, it’s no swanky hotel, but there’s more than enough room for two.” V squeezed his hand, and felt her teeth dig into her lip. “Always was. Then, and now, even if our timing was shit, and my judgment even more so.”

“Yours and mine,” he said, staring her down. “You weren’t the one that thought it was better to leave than stay to talk shit out, remember?”

“Oh, I do.” The regret was there before she even bothered to open her mouth, but what she saw after that made her want to look at the cracks in the pavement instead. “Kinda hard to forget things like that.”

“I’m sorry.” He raised his hand to her cheek, but didn’t touch her. Just hovered close until he returned it to his side. “For all the fucking good it is to say it now. After all of it.”

“You’re still saying it.”

“It’s not-” Troy let the sentence drop, and pressed his lips into a thin line. “It doesn’t make it okay, V. Still, are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. And maybe I don’t want that to be the only memory I have of you there.” Her grip on his hand was tight, and she loosened it. “I want to keep on building new memories, you know? Sure it’s not one of our safe areas, but…it’s my home. And I’d have it be yours too if things were different.”

He held her stare as his thumb brushed against the back of her hand, moving in a gentle arc. “Different, eh?”

“Yeah.” Her throat was going dry, but she got the word out. “No sneaking or hiding. All I’d have to do is get you inside.”

Something crossed his face for a moment, but the look faded, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “That easy, eh? Just gotta lead the way?”

“Well, it is a pretty easy walk from here,” she started, “but between you and me, I’d rather cut down on the travel time as much as possible. Save that time for other things, you know?”

She squeezed his hand again, and this time he returned it.

* * *

“Sheet stealer.”

Half-sprawled on top of him, V gave the thin sheet a small tug, and it didn’t budge at all. The warm, comfortable feeling settling over her left her inclined to stay right where she was, and the soft circles Troy was tracing on her back only made the choice that much easier to make.

“You know, I seem to recall waking up most nights to it being the other way around.” He snorted when she opened her mouth to object. “Nope. You wrap yourself up like a cocoon if I’m not careful.”

Humming against him, she let go to trail her nails over his chest. “…Okay, fine. So I might burrito it up a little, but I’m not right now. What’s one extra inch?”

“A mile,” he replied, and V gave his shoulder a flick.

“So you want me to be a leech then? All right. It’s on.” She burrowed against him, and kissed his shoulder when she heard him laugh. “What? Your fault, Chief. You brought this on yourself.”

“Guess so. I don’t know how I’ll be able to cope. After being lured in like this-“

“Lured in?” She popped her head up, and Troy couldn’t hide the way his lips kept inching up. “I did no such thing!”

“No?”

“Uh-uh, pal.”

“Okay, maybe not. But you have been thinking about this a lot.” A slow smile spread out across his face, and V pressed her face into his shoulder again. “Too late to be bashful now.”

“Shut up. I can be as damn bashful as I please,” she said against his skin. She batted her lashes as she raised her chin, and didn’t avoid eye contact with him this time.  “Whether it’s about intentions or actual deeds, I have every right. So don’t test me.”

Pushing the sheet aside, she raised herself up, and shifted so she could straddle him. Her hips didn’t align with Troy’s, but she felt him arch upward, and pursed her lips as his smile came dangerously close to a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I don’t know if I buy that, Chief.”

She hovered close; close enough for her to hear his small inhale, and close enough to see how his attention remained fixed on her mouth. “No?”

“No, not one bit. Should work on your persuasion.” His hands moved to rest on her hips, applying just enough pressure to bring them into contact. She watched his eyelids flutter, and sucked in a quick breath. “Better.”

“Almost?” He rolled his hips again, and she bit down on the sound in the back of her throat. “How about that?”

He wasn’t completely hard again, but he didn’t have to be. Not with the friction building between them. Dragging her nails along his sides, she leaned down and barely dodged his lips. Her mouth went straight for his throat, and didn’t stop until she heard him groan.

“Yeah, that’s something,” Troy rasped.

“I thought we were working on getting out of here?” Her tongue traced over his skin, and his grip on her tightened.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“So…”

He cracked open his eyes to look at her, and she raised her head high enough for him to see her pout. “Someone’s going to have to call a raincheck on this?”

“Kinda. I’d really prefer not to.”

“So, don’t.”

V blinked at him, and laughed. “Seriously, Troy-“

“I’m in no hurry. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to slip out, and keep my head low once the sun’s down.”

He raised his hand to brush his fingertips along her jaw, and she leaned right into it. “It’d be the first for…” Her teeth went into her lip, and she drew back. “It’s not your kind of risky, Chief. No need to tempt fate any further.”

Crawling off of him, she detangled herself from the sheets and narrowly avoided rolling off of the bed. Troy’s eyes tracked her as she brushed her fingers through her hair, but she didn’t look his way. Not until she’d gotten up, and righted herself.

He sighed. “Never thought you’d turn that on me.”

_Neither did I._  A small smile slid onto her face, and she was glad to see him return it. “Eh, it was going to happen at some point. Rubbing off on me with all your talk of being a right proper citizen. A good example, and all that jazz. Something was going to take.”

She stretched both arms over her head, just far enough to draw a sigh when she released them, and let them fall. They weren’t able to sit idle for long, however, and she reached for the closet doors. Sifting through the shirts in front of her, she frowned when her fingers brushed against one of Johnny’s.

“Goddammit.”

“Everything okay?”

“My tendency to toss shit around’s starting to come back and bite me in the ass. That and my friends’ tendency to do the same damn thing.” Gat was almost as bad an offender as her, considering how often they used to drink themselves stupid on the same bed that Troy was lying on, but V bit her tongue before the statement could slip out. She dropped the shirt and nearly laughed when she stumbled onto one of Shaundi’s. “I don’t always think when I grab stuff, so clothes get mixed up pretty often.”

Troy eyed her curiously until she held it up to show him. “Ah. Course it wouldn’t be yours.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He raised himself up on his elbows and grinned. “Too much purple.”

“Hush. You pulled off more than enough purple not too long ago.”

The lazy grin remained as he thought it over, and chuckled softly. “Guess I did. Wouldn’t mind more, but any less red and I’d start to miss it.”

V ducked her eyes away before he could spot the way her cheeks tinted. “Good, cause that’s still not changing, even if you beg me.” The large shirt she yanked out wasn’t red or purple, but that didn’t matter. Covering herself up enough to avoid a chill did. “You want a drink? I think I want a drink. Can go simple, or fancy, though I’d have to ask you to skip any and all umbrellas. Fresh out of those.”

Troy shrugged, and she watched his tongue flick out to wet his lips. “Surprise me.”

“Roger that, Chief,” she replied, flashing him a small salute on her way out.

She wandered out into the kitchen, whistling as she went, and headed straight for the fridge. The pleasant tingle moving from head to toe almost made her skip over to it, but she couldn’t rein in her giddy smile as she poked her head into the fridge to check for any leftover beers.

That’s when she heard the knocks. Loud and high, and her heart leapt into her throat. “No, no, no, no, no.”

She propped herself up by the peephole to do one last check and that’s when Johnny’s voice called out, “Yo, you home?”

“Oh, no,” she breathed. Darting right to the entrance to her bedroom, she skidded to a stop and could only give Troy a helpless look, before her voice decided to work. “Johnny. It’s Johnny.”

Troy’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to get up. “Fuck. What’s he doing here? You two meeting today?”

“No. Er, yes. Maybe?” Wincing, she noticed Troy’s shift in expression, and waved her hands around before grabbing for his clothes on the floor. “He hinted at something earlier, but wasn’t upfront about any of it. He was supposed to call ahead first. You’d think I’d hear my own damn phone ringing, right?” That’s when it clicked. Placing her head in her hands, she let out a strangled noise.

Troy went straight to her and touched her shoulder. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Shit. The movie.” Guilt settled in her gut as she looked up at him. “Right when we went in, I put the damn cell on silent and didn’t get back to it.”

“Okay, so he’s here to hunt you down. So, uh,” he started, his eyes moving back towards the door, “what now? You got a plan?”

“No. Nothing that’s really coming together, but…” Gat knocked again, this time a hair louder, and she traded one last glance with Troy before they started grabbing for his things. “Okay, don’t budge an inch from this room. I’ll see what he wants, and then we can figure out what to do from there. Sound good?”

“It’s something,” Troy muttered, dragging his shirt on.

She quickly slammed her bedroom door shut, only to hear the key turning in the lock to the front.

“Hey!” she yelled. “Hey, hold on for a hot fucking minute! Trying to get decent here!”

The sound stopped, and she took one last anxious look at her room before cracking open the door. Gat stood there, spinning the key ring around his index finger, and shoved the keys into his pocket before straightening his posture. “The fuck you’ve been? Kept on calling, but everything kept on going to voicemail.”

“It’s called being busy, you ass. I forgot to check my phone, because I assumed you wouldn’t be blowing it up right this minute. Or my door.” She placed her hand on her hip and stared him down. “What the hell, man? Planning on raiding my place and stealing my booze?”

“No.” His frown grew as she narrowed her eyes, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Now I am, but when you didn’t pick up I called Shaundi, and she pointed me here. Said you might be hiding out, so I figured I'd stop by and crack open something even if I couldn't find you.”

“…She did, huh?” V said, feeling her stomach drop.

“Yeah, and you’ve got good shit hiding here. If I don’t need to buy something, I won’t.” Annoyance started to creep into his tone, but the moment he really got a good look at her, he whistled. “Guess you were busy after all. No car’s out front, though. You pick ‘em up?”

Everything jumped to attention, and both of her hands flew up in front of her. “Whoa, way to jump to conclusions already!”

“You don’t even have fucking pants on, come on, V. You want me to go for your hair next?” Her hand went right to it to pat it down, and Johnny tried peeking around her. He didn’t get to see much past her, but that didn’t do much to stop him, and she closed the door further. “Shit, are they still here?”

“No! No, can you just cool it for a sec?” Panic rose in her throat, but with Troy stashed in her room, there was nothing for Gat to catch. Just her, and whatever was left of her modesty. She tugged at her T-shirt, but the motion drew his eye and she wished like hell she’d at least thrown on a pair of shorts before booking it to the door. “There’s no one here, Gat.”

He’d angled his head to let her know that his eyes were on her legs now, and Johnny’s smirk grew even more pronounced. “Sure, boss.”

_Oh, Jesus._  “I didn’t exactly say I had company, Gat. Just that I was busy. Like, you know,” she said, babbling quick before her nerves made her chicken out. “ _Busy._  And you’ve got a key, so do I really need you walking in on me when I'm…you know?”

He raised his chin, and when he caught the motion she was making, she caught something she rarely saw. Surprise. “Oh.” It didn’t take him long to recover, however, and the subtle smile he wore now made her blush burn ten times hotter. “Well, that’s different.”

“I...” She choked on the rest of her sentence, but cleared her throat and tried to power through it. Because sure, she could wish she were in a pit somewhere, but that wasn’t going to help her any right now. Not with Gat staring her down, and her bravado deflating fast. “Seriously, though,” she cut in, her heart doing double-time, “is it something big? Like ‘go grab pants so we can fucking tackle it’ big, because we can go on like this, but I’m starting to feel a draft.”

“Could be something with the ties set up.”

“Big, big?”

“Yeah. Might even net you bonus points with the bigwigs you’re set on showing off for.”

V frowned, but there wasn’t anything off to Johnny’s tone. Only pure amusement as he kept on watching her. “So?”

He waved a hand at her as he leaned his shoulder against the door, and grinned. “So go grab pants so we can fucking tackle it.  Unless you wanna go without. Either’s cool with me.”

_Yep. One deep, dark pit._  “Yeah, I think option one’s a winner.”

She stepped back and shut the door right in his face. “Oh, come on!” he yelled, and V took in a deep breath before shuffling towards her room.

“Option one doesn’t require you to help me pick a pair out, Gat!” she shot back over her shoulder, and she whipped the baggy T-shirt off. “Go on ahead, I’ll be there!”

Sighing deeply, V spotted her jacket on the couch – left exactly where Troy had all but tossed it – and pulled her phone out. Four missed calls. That was a new record for Gat, and she switched out of the mode before letting it fall back onto the couch. She ran a hand through her hair, and came to a dead stop after she threw the door to her room open.

Troy’s hand was on the sleeve of Johnny’s shirt, and the moment he saw her he let it fall. “You, uh, handle it?”

“Kind of.” There was the roar of an engine, and once the sound faded, V found it a lot easier to give Troy a crooked smile. “He didn’t barge in at any rate, so I’d call that a success. Oh, and I don’t think you’ll find much that fits there, Chief. And you’re already dressed, so…”

The expression that crossed his face wasn’t easy to read at all, and when she walked over to the closet to start pulling clothes out he gave her plenty of space. “Gat need you?”

“Yeah,” she replied, working hard to get rid of the nervous feeling settling in her gut. “Apparently he’s got something in mind that even Ultor might be happy with handling, so he couldn’t push it to tomorrow. Had to be now. And if it’s good for the bigwigs, maybe it’ll be good for the boys in blue too.” She hopped as she pulled her jeans on, and grabbed for her bra. “Think if I keep my fingers crossed it’ll be mostly legal?”

He watched her fiddle with the clasp for a few seconds, his eyebrows drawn together, but the expression eased. “Maybe.” He gestured for her to turn around. It took him only a second to fasten the clasp, but the warm touch lingered as his hands moved up to her shoulders. “Though with you two, one can only hope, right?”

“Too true. ‘Sides, I’ll try to keep it to a page three article even if it does go south.” The tension lingered, even as his fingers worked to rub every trace of it away, and she tried not to bite her tongue.  She turned her head so she could get a good look at him, and gave him an apologetic glance.  _Though, I’d…_

The tinny notes of her ringtone cut through the silence, and V groaned. Covering her face, she felt Troy press a quick kiss to the side of her neck before backing off. “Duty calls.”

“Troy.”

“Can’t keep him waiting too long. He’ll think you shook him on purpose, and that won’t help you at all.”

V kept on chewing on her lip as Troy aimed an expectant look at her, and she went right for the drawer to her nightstand. She fished around in it for a few seconds before finding what she was looking for, and made her way back to him. “Here. You’ll need this.”

He eyed the key warily, and a pang of nostalgia hit. She hadn’t furrowed her brows as much when he’d first offered a key of his own, but the sentiment was too familiar. “You want me to hide it under the mat or something once I’m out?”

That response, not so much. “What?” she asked, blinking at him. “No! Of course not. I want you to lock up and keep it. I was kinda hoping this could be a repeat experience? Hopefully one with less interruptions, and sneaking, and…” Her hands were moving awkwardly in front of her, and she shut her mouth when Troy’s expression shifted. “Um, yeah. I’m sorry, I really should’ve-“

He kissed her again, and she raised herself up onto her toes to hold it. “I know,” he said softly. “Call me once it’s all set and done, though?”

“Once I’m sure I won’t be rocking the back of a patrol car?” Troy gave her a look, and V tried not to grin. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. I’ll call.” She gave him a peck, and let her eyes run over him before pulling her shirt on. “Wouldn’t miss out on a chance to hear your voice again before bed, Chief. You want to take my car too? You can leave it close to your place, and I’ll come by later to pick it up.”

“Nah, I’ll walk. Been a while since I’ve had the chance.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

She gave him one last kiss, before forcing herself back on task. Snagging the last of her things, she did her best not to trip over the scattered clothes on the floor. Her phone stopped ringing by the time she grabbed it off of the couch, but she didn’t bother to call Johnny back. She’d be with him soon enough.


	62. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for the space between updates. I know this used to update pretty consistently, and I hope to get cracking on quicker updates once my other writing project's finished. It's actually for a Saints Row Big Bang that's running until August, and as soon as that's done I'm definitely going to see about posting it here too if I can. So, thank you all for sticking with me and the story, especially after this long. I seriously appreciate it.
> 
> As for this chapter, this was originally part of a fic with a happy and sad take on the prompt "Perfect". It's on the shorter side, but I couldn't resist including it here.
> 
> Post-SR3, but before IV.

The television was on when Troy came home. It was on one of the channels he switched to when he didn't need to overthink or be reminded of what crossed his desk just that morning, and the movie playing right now was one he and V had seen at least four or five times by now.

Gunfire rang out, loud as the hero continued their one-man rampage, but V didn't notice. She was asleep, balled up on one corner of the couch, and Troy wasn't sure how she managed to do it. Only pure exhaustion left him able to tune any of that out, and he put his coat and briefcase down before placing a hand on her shoulder.

It didn't take much to wake her up, just a gentle nudge. Her eyes scanned the room, looking everywhere until they settled on him. "Hey." He almost didn't catch it as he watched her angle her head towards him. "Early night?"

"As early as they come. Would've been here sooner if I'd known you'd be waiting, though."

"Finished all of my shit early too," she said with a yawn. "And…the others wanted to relax by throwing a party, but I wasn't feeling it." She blinked up at him, and her hand covered his. "Turning in?"

"Not yet." Troy gestured towards the couch. "Room for one more?"

The corner of V's mouth curved up, and she gave his sleeve a small tug. "You bet, Chief."

He sat down next to her, her hand still on his sleeve, and when she tugged his arm around her he pulled her close. Her hair tickled his nose, and he brushed it away before pressing a kiss to her head.

He missed this. He'd missed a lot of things, but having her close like this topped the list. With half her time spent here and over in Steelport, it just wasn't possible to get her to sit still as often as he used to, and he didn't want to waste a single second of it. Not when he was able to get her to slow down, just for a bit.

Troy's fingers ran through her hair as he listened to her relax, drawing that faint hum, almost too silent to catch. The arm around his middle went slack as the movie approached the end, but when he tried to adjust their position, he felt V's grip tighten. "Troy?"

Her voice was sleepy, and he wished he'd stayed still. "Yeah?"

"Sorry."

He frowned. "For what?"

"For not calling ahead. Should've warned you."

"About being home? No reason to." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and tried to calm the feeling rising in his gut. "I'm just glad that this shit gave you a break tonight so you wouldn't have to stay up to settle it." He waited a second, then spoke again. "Party or no party. Tempting as it is."

"I hear you. And I've got a place to crash out there, but it's just not the same, you know?"

_Sleeping alone?_  V returned the squeeze, and he shook his head. "No, it's not."

"The next few days are looking good, though. Easy stuff, nothing like the fucking mess that went down last month. Should be able to sleep through an entire night for once. Won't have to wake you up by shuffling around either. Should be nice, right? To be able to sleep pressure-free without a care in the world?"

Her tone was light, and Troy couldn't bring himself to match it. "With you there? Yeah."

She sat up and placed her chin on his chest, peering up at him. The light from the television didn't travel far – neither did the light in the hall – but he could see her face perfectly. The way her lips tried to pull up into a smile, but fell just short of it.

"You know what we should do?" he asked, getting the idea out before he lost the nerve. "Get away for a little while."

"Away? Like a vacation?" She tilted her head, and eyed him, but when he didn't change his response, her eyes widened. "You're serious."

"Yeah, I'm serious." He was expecting the skepticism, but the unsure look that followed made him mull over his words before continuing. "Somewhere with a little more sun, and a little less bureaucratic bullshit. Just you and me."

"You and me?"

"We'll wrap things up before we go, but…yeah. You and me."

Curiosity flickered across her face. "Easier said than done, you know," she said, chewing on her lip. "Escaping."

"Sure, but there's no reason not to try, right?"

V's teeth left her bottom lip as she considered him, but unlike before, Troy didn't see that uncertainty. Not in her eyes, or in the soft smile she came to wear. "No. Not at all."


	63. Foundations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's day two of being awake, and V's adjusting. Poorly, but she's adjusting. Early SR2!
> 
> Many thanks to Autumnyte for helping me work out the kinks here, especially since the fic kept on getting longer and longer, and I didn't have the heart to stop it.

V wasn't sure what woke her first. The loud thump from the people above her, or the sensation of everything falling out from under her.

She hit the floor, and scrambled to get up, slamming her back against the wall. It was dark, almost black as her eyes adjusted, and when nothing happened – no guns, no heat, or pain – she choked down an unsteady breath.

Her attention shot to the ceiling when she heard another thump, and when her heart rate slowed she pressed her hands to her eyes. “Hotel. You're in a shitty hotel. ...You're fine. You're going to be fine.”

She kept on chanting the words as she uncoiled herself from her spot against the wall, and climbed to her feet. Her limbs complained at the motion, and she took a moment to try and stretch them out. Her fingers twitched when they grazed the scars on her arms, and she gave up before long.

One look at the clock told her it was too damn early to be up. She should've been exhausted. After watching the news until her eyes refused to stay open, she’d given up and tried to sleep, but the rest she took was more of a glorified nap, and every inch of her was tense. Either ready for the next shock, or ready for the next attempt on her, who knew? What she did know was that she couldn't stay idle for long. Not with more of those Ronin out there fucking up their city.

 _Ronin, Samedi, Brotherhood, it's a regular party and you're late for it,_ she mused, brushing her hair out of her eyes. The shorter length still bugged the shit out of her, but at least it was manageable. She combed her fingers through it, and counted to ten before climbing to her feet. _Might as well see who else's invitation got lost in the mail._

Taking a moment to pull over an ashtray – already littered with stubs she’d left last night – she lit a smoke, and pulled out her phone. There was a good chance that no one was even up right now, but threw herself onto the couch anyway.

The cheap thing wasn't going to last. V could already see that, and all she'd done was slap a screen protector on it and shove it in her pocket. Thankfully she was able to get her old number again, but the newer model looked strange in her hand. It rattled her as she sat there and considered it, but she shook off the light tremor as she scrawled down the few phone numbers she had memorized on a torn sheet of notebook paper.

It wouldn't do any good for her to try them all one by one and then forget the rest in the process. Her memory had been okay before, but a sliver of her wondered how it would fare now. If she lost a little more of herself during her coma than she realized.

Once she was done, she sucked in a breath and counted how many she'd recalled. Eleven. Not bad, she conceded, and slowly let the breath out. Now for the fun part. Checking which ones were good, and which weren't worth following up on.

The first number she knew she shouldn’t bother with. She hesitated once she put the area code down, but jotted the rest in a furious swipe anyway. Troy's was a number she’d known by heart, even before they'd crossed the line in their relationship. But that number had to have been burned years ago – probably shortly after things went to shit - and she didn't have any business trying it now.

It didn’t help that whenever she entertained the idea of talking to him, her mind stuttered and came to a complete halt. That made it hurt all the more.

_“It's not a problem. We won't let it become one.”_

She stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray, and drew a sharp line through the number, jumping straight to the one after it.

Dee's was second. V knew there was a chance she wouldn't pick up, but when the electronic voice on the other end told her the number was disconnected, she couldn't shake the disappointment. Trying to seek out Dee’s place wasn’t an option either. With the Row demolished, she wouldn’t have lingered there, and she didn’t know where the hell Luis used to live. He was often the one that picked up the phone if Dee wasn’t able to get back to her, but now, he was…

_“You remember him, don’t you?”_

_“Who?”_

_“My brother, Luis. He always used to talk about you.”_

_“…Luis? Of course I do. He was always there to save my ass in case I did something stupid. How’s he doing?”_

She placed her face in her hands and slowly breathed in and out. The moment her breathing evened out again, she went back to the sheet.

Johnny’s she didn’t bother with since he’d been locked up, but with him staying at Aisha’s at least she knew where to look if she needed him. Julius’s and Dex’s numbers were both disconnected, and the rest she meticulously went down the line with before she took her pen and crossed each of them out.

Carlos’s was the only number entered in and kept, something that she made sure to do before they separated, because if plans were going to be in motion they needed to stay in contact. No point in losing the only person she had an actual lifeline to right off the bat.

But as her fingers itched to call him, she wondered just how much of a bad idea that was. It was still early, but…

Another thump sounded overhead, and V jolted. She scrambled to get to her feet, and whipped on the ratty jeans she’d discarded before turning in. She needed to get out. To move, to do anything. Because the alternative meant sitting here in the dark, alone, and she couldn’t do it. Not anymore.

She shoved everything she owned into the small duffel bag she managed to pick up the other day and hurriedly checked out. The person at the front didn’t ask, and she didn’t tell. With that taken care of, she pushed her way outside, and sucked in an unsteady breath.

Then walked. She had to relearn the city step by step, road by road, and she wasn’t going to do it in a day, but it was progress.

Still, even an aim like that left her restless. She stopped by old stores she used to frequent to see if they were open. She wandered through the drive-thru at Freckle Bitch’s and somehow managed to score a free side of fries. She even found herself lingering by Apollo’s, even if she booked it at the first sight of blue.

It hurt, but she wanted to know that some things hadn’t changed. Not completely.

She was over by Tee ‘N’Ay again when she pulled out her phone. It wasn’t as early anymore, but with no real idea of Carlos’s schedule she was still taking a chance by calling him. Her willpower eventually gave up the fight. She punched in his number, and waited, leaning over the railing.

Carlos’s yawn sent a pang of guilt right through her, but he didn’t hang up or sound pissed. Just sleepy like any person would’ve. _“Hey,”_ he said _. “You got something planned, boss?”_

She froze, but the title snapped her back to attention. “Not sure yet. And it’s V, remember?”

 _“Oh. Uh, right. V.”_ He chuckled, and went silent. She could still hear his phone shifting around, however, and she suspected he was finding a way to wake himself up. _“You’re up early.”_

“Not a morning person?”

 _“I can be. Just…”_ He yawned again, and V grinned. _“Enjoying the fact that I’m not in that damn cell anymore.”_

“I hear you there. Loving the fact that you’ve got an actual mattress to sleep on? Maybe even a little too much?” His laugh was soft, and V clucked her tongue. “After that I bet it feels like heaven.”

 _“Close. Way too close.”_ Carlos cleared his throat. _“So, what are you doing right now?”_

“Just checking things out. You know, plotting old landmarks and the like. I knew I’d have to replot a few places, but this is fucking ridiculous.”

She dug into her pocket for her pack of cigarettes, and kept the phone pressed to her ear while she slipped one between her lips. Half of the pack was gone already, and at this rate, she was going to smell of nothing but cinders and nicotine. 

“Loving the new faces around here, by the way. You know anything about the guys with the flashy bikes?”

_“Who?”_

“You know,” she started, flicking at her lighter, “the ones whipping samurai swords around?”

_“Oh, the Ronin? You ran into them?”_

“Yeah.” She took a long puff of her cigarette and exhaled. “Met two in an alley, and they tried to put me down. Real friendly group.” Carlos muttered something under his breath, and V had trouble picking it out. “Ringing a bell?”

_“Well, they’re one group that’s gained a lot of influence over the years. There’s at least two more that you need to worry about, but…they went right for you?”_

“Yep. Knew who I was, and everything. I know news travels fast – doubly so if Jane’s got a say in it – but man.”

 Her phone started buzzing, and she stared at the screen incredulously as an unknown number popped up. Not even a day in and she was getting calls? It struck her as weird on plenty of levels, and she chewed on her lip for a second before raising the cell back to her ear.

“Hey, let me put you on hold real quick. I’ve got a call coming in.” Switching over to the mystery number, she tentatively said, “Hello?”

_“V? That you?”_

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at her phone as if it were a foreign object. “Johnny? How did you… How did you get this number?”

_“Straight from your motherfucking mouth, if I remember it right. It’s the same one you had five years back. Eesh told me to give it a shot when I mentioned wanting to get a hold of you.”_

“Jesus, and here I was thinking you did some serious sleuthing. Way to give me a heart attack, Gat. ….And I happen to like this number, you know. Easy to memorize and store.”

_“Yeah, yeah. Better it worked out like this, though, cause I wasn’t about to hunt your ass down after you ran off yesterday.”_

“Ran off? So you’re telling me you wanted me to stick around? When you were ready to all but bust Aisha’s door down? Sure.”

_“You were gone by the time I touched the fucking knob.”_

“No. I call bullshit on that. I might have been backing up, but I wasn’t gone.”

In fact, she’d been struggling not to peel out of Aisha’s driveway, her nerves still shot by the bomb Johnny dropped, but she kept that fact to herself. Just raised up the right amount of indignation to try and shoot him down, and tapped into that instead.

“ _Whatever. Come on by later today. We’ve got some things to go over.”_

He hung up, and she switched back over to Carlos. She put out her stub on the ground, and clenched her hand tight to keep from digging for the cigarette pack. “Hey. Sorry about the wait. Johnny was on the other end.”

_“Ah. How’re you both doing? The report made it sound like a bloodbath in there.”_

V winced. “Yeah, the cops were pretty shit out of luck once Johnny snagged a gun.  But he seemed to be in pretty good spirits for someone that was facing the chair.” She heard Carlos shudder and didn’t blame him one bit. “He actually wanted to meet up today, so I penciled him in.”

_“Because you already had a lot on your plate?”_

Her lips quirked up. “Hey. Snagging a decent burger or fries is serious business. Anyway, I’ll give you an update if anything important comes up. Talk to you later.”

Leaning back against the bar, she gave up the fight and pulled out another cigarette. She didn’t bother to light it, however. Just let it sit between her lips as the breeze rustled her hair.

But before the day was out, she’d light it. That, she knew without a doubt. 

* * *

_God, please don’t let me smell like an ashtray. Please don’t let me smell like an ash tray._

That thought had run through V’s head for the last fifteen minutes straight, culminating in an impulse buy of an air freshener as she idly flicked at her lighter. The miniature Freckle Bitch’s logo idly swung back and forth from her rear view mirror as she took the turn down what was supposed to be Aisha’s road, and she crossed her fingers.

A familiar driveway came into view, and she angled the old Compton so that she could park there. It protested about as much as a car on its second to last legs would, but once the parking break was set, it stayed in place. There would be no chasing after errant cars today, and with the limited cash she had on her, she wasn’t about to replace it anytime soon.

She climbed out, and quickly made her way to the front door. Her finger jabbed the doorbell before she could lose any more of her nerve, and she stood there, alternating between pacing around and lacing her fingers behind her head.  

But the door opened, and everything V had planned in her head disappeared. Went poof like a puff of smoke. Johnny leaned out from behind the door – he’d ditched the suit for a tight purple shirt and pinstriped pants – and once he noticed it was her, opened the door further. She spent a good minute flapping her mouth as he looked at her expectantly, before settling on giving him an awkward wave.

“Hey, uh, I actually wasn't a hundred percent sure if this was Aisha's place,” she said while moving her hands, unable to stay still. “It looked familiar, but most of the houses here look the same, and um.... It’d suck if someone called the cops because of random hooligans swearing on their doorstep. Low profiles are good after prison breaks, and shooting up courthouses. ...And spinning out cars while shooting at cops, and all that other shit. You know.”

V ran a hand through her hair as Johnny stood there, and when his eyebrows went up she clapped her mouth shut. 

“Took you long enough, but you're at the right place.”

Her nerves eased when she heard the amusement in his tone, and she let out the breath she'd been holding. “Good to hear.”

Gat held out his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her into a half-hug.

The gesture was new for them. She'd barely touched him before, but the ease with which he drew her close now threw her for a second, and when she pulled back to look at him, she wasn't ready for how warm his grin was. It made her chew on the inside of her cheek as she drew back, and before long had to shift her eyes elsewhere.

He angled his chin towards the living room, and took a step inside. “Come on in.”

Slipping past him, she tamped down on the urge to start whistling intermittently, and waited for Johnny to close the door behind them. In the meantime, V let her eyes travel from wall to wall, and the more she took it all in, the more she came to realize this was probably the neatest entryway she had ever been in.

Her gaze finally came to rest on the carpet. The all but pristine, beige carpet that she had already taken one too many steps onto, and noticed the scuff on it that was a shade darker than it was supposed to be.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, going for the laces of her shoes. “Couldn’t you have warned me?”

“About what?”

“How clean this place is! I’ve been tromping around Stilwater all day, through alleys, Freckle Bitch’s, and all kinds of shit. Might as well have asked me to dig in my heels to get a good scrape going.”

“Forget the damn carpet. It’ll get cleaned.”

Grumbling to herself, she deposited her boots by the door, and trailed after him. The rest of the house proved to be just as immaculate, filled with modern paintings, tall ceilings, open rooms, and a leather furniture set. She trailed her fingers along the back of the couch as she admired it, and went rigid when she heard snickering behind her.

“You two need a moment?”

V aimed a pinched look at Gat when she turned to face him, but dropped it once she noticed the beer he was offering her. “Was that what we were having? A moment?”

“Fucking relax already,” Johnny replied after she took the bottle. “You’re acting like all of this is made of fine china. You’re not going to break shit here just from looking at it.”

She snorted as she watched him sit down the couch and immediately prop his feet up onto the coffee table. He did have a point, though. It wasn’t like the place was shrink-wrapped or bubble-wrapped. It was simply neat, and she wasn’t sure what her fear of wrecking it said about her as a person.

“All right, all right, but if I breathe and something gets fucked up, it’s on you.” 

She popped the lid off of her beer, and took a swig of it before sitting down next to him.

 “Johnny? You get the door?”

…And nearly spit it out all over Aisha’s coffee table.

V tried like hell not to cough, keeping her hand firmly pressed to her mouth, only to hear Johnny’s deep laughter. The finger she gave him didn’t keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks, but she flashed it anyway. It was a matter of principle, dammit.

“Yeah, Eesh, I got it!” he yelled back, between laughs. “Though you might wanna come down and see who it is.”

Peeking over the top of the couch, V watched as Aisha came down the stairs, and froze once her eyes swept V’s way. “It’s…” Her confusion quickly shifted into a warm smile, however, and she made her way over to them. “Is that actually you, V?”

“I’m roughly about ninety percent sure, yeah,” V teased, once her voice came back. Dressed in a smart suit, with her hair cut short, Aisha put everything on her to shame, and V tried to choke down her nervousness before her foot went right into her mouth. She climbed up, and gave Aisha a half-hug over the couch.  “God, it’s nice to see a friendly face.”

“I could say the same thing.” Aisha drew back, and looked V over. “Let me guess. You did something with your hair?”

A hand went right to her hair – still so much shorter than it should’ve been – and V made a face. “Something’s right. But I should be aiming that question right back at you. You look amazing.”

“I do?” V started to backpedal on her statement, but Aisha laughed. “Well, thank you. I wasn’t expecting any visitors, otherwise I would’ve dressed myself up more. I also would’ve planned out dinner better. Johnny and I were going light tonight.”

“No need. We won’t be sticking around for long.” Johnny angled his bottle towards V, and she raised her eyebrows. “Got business to settle. Saints business.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” V sighed, slumping back down onto the couch. “But you’re right. You’re so fucking right I don’t even know where to start, but if we’re going to get into any of that, we’re going to need some purple backing us up.”

The corner of his mouth curved up. “You serious?”

“You bet I’m fucking serious.” V drained her bottle and set it down. “Cause I’ve been awake all of a day and a half, and already dodged a shanking. I think we’ve got some fixing up to do around here.”

“Fucking A. You don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Aisha cleared her throat. “You’re both really going to do this now?”

“It’s just the time, Eesh.” He leaned forward with an eager grin on his face, and pointed towards V. “Sides, this one’s been laid out long enough. She’s gotta be rusty.” That crack earned him a bottle cap to the chest. “The fuck was that for?”

“Being an asshole. Thought it’d be obvious,” V said, rolling her eyes, “but he’s right. We can’t afford to be idle now.”

Aisha crossed her arms. “Fine. But you’re going to need a place to meet, and V, do you even have a stable place to stay yet?”

V bit her tongue, but Johnny spoke up before her mouth betrayed her. “Don’t know about her, but I’ve got something in mind. Unless here’s on the table.”

Gat raised his eyebrows at Aisha, and received a firm, “No.”

“No harm in trying,” he said, and gave V a look before gesturing towards the door. 

* * *

The door of the Compton slammed behind Johnny as he settled into the passenger seat. V had waited for him to ask for the keys before approaching the car, but he went straight for the passenger’s side without even bothering to swipe the keys spinning around her index finger.

Once she was in the car, however, he couldn’t stop smirking, and it took her way too long to connect it to the air freshener hanging in front of them. “Nice.”

It spun in a circle as it stared down at them, and V tried hard not to blush. “Shut up,” she muttered, and put the car in reverse. “Now, where the hell are we going to go if we want to kick this off again?”

“The church’s fucking out. After all of the renovations Ultor made to the Row, you can barely even recognize it.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” A chill ran through her, and she shook it off best as she could. ”So, any other options?”

Gat thought it over, leaning back in his seat as a thoughtful expression settled on his face. “Could always go for the old mission.”

“Mission?” He turned to meet her gaze, and she quickly parked her eyes back on the road. “All right. Where is it?”

“The Red Light District. Think it’s around Bavogian Plaza.”

“That’s…kind of a weird spot for a mission.”

“It was years back. The city actually wasn’t anything like this before. There’s a whole other layer to it that sank underground.”

“Wait, what?”

“They built over it. Just let the rest of it go untouched, and that’s one of the only places where I’ve heard you can get a good look. And that one leads into an abandoned hotel.”

“How do you even know this shit?”

“You listen. Had plenty of time to do that.”

She hummed in response as he flipped on the radio, and she tried not to snort when he settled for K12. Johnny had never been in her car long enough to toy around with the radio before, often letting whatever she had on keep on playing as he talked over it. She waited for him to get going again, to fill up the empty space with his opinions on things, but he stayed silent.

It almost made her want to call him on it. Almost. “You said it was abandoned, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“What if it isn’t?”

 He gave a half-shrug, but V could already see the start of a smile. “Then we’ve got some cleaning to do.”

* * *

Turned out she was right. Not that she needed to be proven right here – she would’ve been perfectly pleased if that hadn’t been the case – but nope. It wasn’t abandoned. Not even close to that, judging from how many Sons of Samedi members were firing their way.

At least that was what Johnny had called them before knocking the shit out of the first one that charged his way. The men and women wearing cargos and green tanks and tees kept on coming, and V couldn’t believe the numbers they were throwing at them.

It didn’t take long for her to get winded. She hopped behind a crumbled wall, gasping as she tried to right herself and fight against it. To tap into the adrenaline running through her, but she slipped. Slipped, of all things when she tried to poke her head out, and scrambled from the floor as she tagged the guy that tried to pick her off.

She was on her feet before Johnny caught her, but it was close. Too damn close, and she wasn’t sure what to blame. Herself for being careless, or the bomb and subsequent coma that had left her this way.

Dust filled the air with every missed shot, and she kept on going for every discarded gun until it was only her and Gat left standing. Gulping down air, she swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, and felt ready to stake a year-long nap.

The moment Johnny caught V’s eye, however, her posture straightened. He’d been whistling while reloading his shotgun, and flashed her a wicked grin. “I needed that.”

She laughed, the sound almost a harsh bark. “Okay. Good to know that your form of stress relief hasn’t changed much over the years.”

“I’m easy to please. Just give me a gun, and some motherfuckers to shoot at and it’s all good.”

They stood there for a few minutes, listening for anything over the sounds of the fires the Samedi had set up in their makeshift hideout, but nothing else came. Even when V lost her patience and yelled, “Hello?” as loud as she could muster.

She wandered back into the main area of the mission with Johnny close behind her. There was no hint of the underbrush here, and she leaned against the edge of the stone stairwell as she studied the rest of the room. In a way, she couldn’t help but think of parts of the church. How it had always been on the edge of falling apart, until you swung around a corner and stepped into Julius’s office. His space was always neat, always in order, no matter how much damage the building weathered.

“So, what do you think?”

Staring across the rubble on the floor, she shrugged a shoulder, and kicked a small rock away. “I’m not complaining, but…it’s kind of a shithole. It’s got potential sure, but we’ve got our work cut out for us.” The stone she was leaning against gave, and she yelped as she fell. “Speaking of which...”

“Yeah, we can clear some of this out. Won’t do us too well if we need a pickaxe to get to the shit we need. But we ain’t cleaning all of this up.”

“We’re not?” V dusted off her jeans, and gave him a wry look. “Not your bag, Gat?”

“Fuck no. You wanna dust up this place and make it look pretty, fine, but we got better things to do like recruiting.”

“Right. Cause you can run a gang, sure, but it’s tough to get anything done without people.”

“What angle do you want to go for?”

“Not like we can just start hanging up banners everywhere. The cops are going to be after us when the other gangs aren’t, but it’s not all bad. With the recent news, our name’s out there again. All we’d need to do is point anyone thinking to join us the right way, and we could see about formally drafting them.”

She mulled it over for a few seconds, until her eyes settled on an old tag on a nearby wall. The swirling snake was done up in green, but had started to fade at the edges.

“You think tags could work?”

Johnny followed her gaze, and made an approving sound. “It’s one way. If you want to stay low-key about things.”

“For now, yes. Once we’ve got the people backing us up, then we can play things more fast and loose, but…a little paint’ll go a long way. We used to have some the best art around. Time to remind people of that. ”

“And after that?”

V canted her head. “…And after that, what?”

“What do you want to do after that?”

“Uh, general gang-related shit?” Her arm flopped down by her side as she aimed a puzzled look at him. “Swift kicking of the Ronin in a really painful place? I don’t know. You’ve got ideas. Throw them out there.”

“I have.”

“So throw more out! I just don’t…” Her voice trailed off when she finally caught it. The almost expectant way Johnny was looking at her, and it made her stop cold. “Stop doing that.”

“Hm? Doing what?”

“Looking at me like I know what the hell I’m doing.”

Johnny’s confusion went straight to a harsh glance that had her stumbling. “You want this?”

“This?”

“The Saints. The people, the name, what we used to be. You want that?” V hesitated, and that made Johnny swear loudly. “Look, we can’t do this shit halfway. You’re either in or out.”

“Yes. Yes, I want this.” Her voice trembled as she spoke, but she shook it off as her volume rose. “I want this so fucking bad I can’t even think straight, but you know what you’re asking me to do, right? How ever since I’ve woken up, people have been turning and looking to me to be Julius!”

“Fuck that. I sure as hell don’t want you to be Julius.”

“But Julius knew this. He knew what to do. What to say! He wouldn’t just send you all out in the hopes that things would go right when they could go horribly wrong! My home’s a ruin, my friends are either dead or gone, and you’re all I have left. I’m not…I can’t throw that away on a fucking whim.”

The words kept on coming, not wanting to stop, but as she stared up at him, she saw his jaw clench.

That was when she remembered just who she was talking to. That made her want to clap her mouth shut instantly, but it was too late. She’d let it out, and the frustration made angry tears well in her eyes.

She ran a hand through her hair and muttered, “Never mind. Just…I’m working on it. It’s not easy, you know.”

It took a moment, but Johnny nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“But I’m here. A hundred and ten percent for you and the Saints. I…I won’t let anything shake that. I promise.” The stare he gave her made her want to squirm under it, but once the corner of his mouth curved up, she relaxed. “But it’s kinda hard to get things rolling without people. And before we tackle anything else, we need to fix that.”

“We got that covered. Soon as we officially get the word out, Canonizations’ll be back on in no time.”

“That’ll be fun times for everyone.” She winced, and let her fingers brush against the bridge of her nose. “You know I almost broke this during mine? It was sore for a week.”

“Eh, it didn’t look too bad.”

“I had blood all over my face, man. It was pretty damn bad.” He shrugged, but the minute V caught his growing smile, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Blood was everywhere. If I didn’t wear so much red, it would’ve stood out like a sore thumb.  And I was lucky enough that Troy-“

_Troy gave her a wry look and put his papers down as he continued to examine her. When he reached out to touch the bridge of her nose she nearly jumped. It was a light touch, one that was meant to keep from hurting her, and she watched the cigarette in his mouth move as he focused on her._

“Troy, um…” Her mouth went dry, and she let the sentence drop. “Anyway, recruits are one thing, but we need people with experience too.” Johnny studied her as she kept her hands moving, and the longer he did, the more she shifted under his gaze. “You got anyone? Any contacts from prison?”

He gave her a quick nod. “Yeah. I got a few people.”

“Good. Call them. Get them here, arrange a meet, whatever. I’ll take it. In the meantime, I’m clearing some of this shit out.”

She kicked over a nearby log, sending it crashing to the ground, and stared at it before bending over to pick it up. It wasn’t heavy. Shouldn’t have been, but picking it up put a strain on her that made her grit her teeth in frustration.

“Yo, V.”

She pivoted in place, and adjusted her grip to keep the log from flying out of her hands. “Yeah?”

“Don’t go too hard. Fresh blood’s gotta have something to do.”

His phone went to his ear after that, and V sucked in a breath before chucking the wood towards the small bonfire.

Only a few minutes passed before he let out a sharp whistle, and she glanced back at him. The phone was still by his ear, but he didn’t seem concerned with it. She wiped her gloved hands off on her jeans, and tilted her chin up. “What’s up?”

“You find a place yet?”

“A place? What, to stay?”

“Yeah, to fucking stay. You didn’t answer Eesh earlier when she mentioned it.” V held her hand in front of her and teetered it back and forth. “Thought so.  She’s got a guest room you can use.”

“Whoa, wait a sec. I’m not staying with you!”

He lowered his phone, and the level look he aimed at her made her response die in her throat. “Why the hell not?”

“Because…because, no. You don’t want me shuffling around Aisha’s place with you two. You’d barely make it through a night with me before tossing me out. I’ll probably spill something, or start a fire in the bathroom, shit like that.”

“You’re not going to wreck the place. And she wouldn’t have brought it up if either of us had a problem with it.”

“What if someone tails me? This shit isn’t the kind of thing you want following you home, and I’ve already had people try to kill me.”

“So?”

“You _did not_ just say ‘so’.”

His lip curled. “It’s the same shit I deal with every day, V. The same kind from the exact same source. I know.”

“Johnny-“

“I know. I fucking know, and I don’t know how many times you want me to spell it out to you. I got you.”

It wasn’t a promise, per se, but she could almost take it as one. And the relief it brought nearly made her throat close up. “Are you sure?”

“Am I stuttering over here?” he asked, annoyance edging into his tone. “Or do I need to cut the speed and go even slower?”

“Okay, fine!” She threw her hands up.  “Fine, you’ve twisted my arm into it. But only for a day or two. Just until I can snag a place of my own. Got it?”

Johnny grinned, and raised the phone to his ear again. “Whatever you say, boss.”


	64. Sharing is caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V has a proposal to make. Takes place between SR2 and SR3!
> 
> I was hoping to get this idea done in time for Valentine's Day, but once the idea started going it just didn't want to stop. Even if that meant finishing it three months later. Sending out tons of thanks to Autumnyte again for her help, because it's been way too long since I've made an update to this collection. To say there's rust to shake off is a serious understatement, and hopefully it'll only get easier from here.

He had plans today. Plans that involved a six-pack, and time with the rusted Venom he was restoring.

With most of Johnny's morning and part of the afternoon used to replace the brakes and jumpstart the motor, he wasn’t far through the checklist he had running, but he still had time. Time enough to head back upstairs to shower and grab one of V’s movies, at least. It didn’t matter which one. He’d pop it in the old-ass TV/VCR set-up they wheeled around downstairs, and use it to tune out everything else as he worked.

He didn’t even have time to think about what he’d do if someone tailed him on the way back down. V intercepted him – something he knew was likely to happen – but didn’t ask what was going on, or how he was doing.  Just looked him over and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder.

“My office in five.”

Then left, leaving him staring after her, both eyebrows raised.

So, he dropped what he was doing and went after her instead. V didn’t do short, clipped responses to begin with, and the way she’d shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket before leaving told him something was off. He just couldn’t put his finger on it yet.

Once he entered V’s office and spotted the fuzzy object resting in her hands, however, he came to a dead stop. Lowered his glasses even, just to confirm that the largest plush heart he’d ever seen was their fucking shade of purple, and promptly pushed them back up.

He was part-way to the door when V spoke up. “Johnny, come on! You won’t even give me a minute to explain this?”

“Explain? I don’t have to hear more than two words about it to say no. Or whatever it is you’ve thrown over there.”

Johnny pointed a finger at the items littering her desk. It wasn’t all hearts, candy, and roses over there, however, and his eyes narrowed when he saw the fleur-de-lis stamped all over them.

He knew what this was. Had known the marketing move was only going to get worse the further they went down this road, and they were going for it. Full on tearing down the road with no signs of stopping, and while he could deal with most of it in stride, he had a limit.

Photos? Fine. Ads? Worse, but fine. Sparkly shit and cutesy nonsense? Any other day and he might’ve tried. Now? He wasn’t feeling too generous, and judging by V’s disappointment she could see it clear as day.

Still, of all the things for his gut to be off-base on, it had to be this. With V, he’d been so sure that-

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “…You know what? Fuck this. I got a layer of dirt and grease on me that needs to be fucking gone, and standing here ain’t helping that.”

Anyone taking a look at him could tell he’d been doing a round with his car downstairs, and he had half a mind to start peeling off the stained white t-shirt on his way out.  The damn thing was starting to grow unbearable, and he pulled at the hem to keep it from sticking to him.

V hurriedly pushed the heart into Pierce’s arms, and side-stepped in front of Johnny just as he took another step towards the door. “Forget the fucking merch for a sec and sit down. This meeting’s a catch-all, so I’m wedging in all I can. Seriously. Give me five to go through this, and then I’ll cut you all loose.”

“Five?”

“Five.” She crossed her heart, and held up her hand. “I give you my word.”

The tug to his sleeve wasn’t hard, but he relented, letting her guide him to an empty chair next to Shaundi. She was scrolling quickly through her phone, and glanced up when Johnny took a seat.

“She hook you, too?”

“Sort of,” Shaundi admitted, putting her phone away. “While I didn’t head this one at all, I might’ve pushed the boss towards some things more than others, so…yeah. I might be more than a little invested.”

“I do remember you pushing pretty hard for things that could act as a show tie-in,” Pierce chimed in. “And what was that bit you wanted to go with again? Cause there’s jingles, and then there’s-”

“ _Shut up_ , Pierce.” She tightly crossed her arms in front of her and fumed.

Johnny angled his head towards Pierce. “I wasn’t even going to ask you.”

“For real?”

Johnny thumbed his nose before crossing his arms. “Yeah, you like this kinda shit. To the point that I think you’d do it for free if any of these assholes said they’d give your tape a play.”

“Man, fuck you.”

There was a kick to the leg of his chair, and V gave him a warning look. “Quit it. We’re here to throw some ideas around and play nice. You want to be an asshole, do it on your own time. For now, we’re here to talk things over. Civilly.”

V must’ve heard his snort, because a second later, her eyes were trying to burn a hole in the side of his face. Her needle-point squint told him she was focusing damn hard on it, too.

“Nice? I don’t do nice. But you’ve got your five. Make it good, boss.”

“I can’t make any promises, but hopefully you’ll get a kick out of it on some level,” she replied, leaning down to give his shoulder a small pat. “Well, other than the one I just gave you, but you get the idea.”

The parting comment made her lean in close, crossing into his space enough for him to catch some faint whiff of whatever citrus thing she’d dipped into earlier that day. Shampoo, body wash, it didn’t matter, but the scent made him turn his head to follow her path just as she stepped away.  

That left both her and Pierce at the front of the room, and once she had everyone’s undivided attention, she cleared her throat.

“I know this wasn’t planned or scheduled, but time’s ticking down, and I’m sick of waffling on it, so first order of business, finalizing our plans for February. We’ve got a grand total of eleven days left in January to decide on any of this, and while I do tend to cut things close, this is a little ridiculous, so…” She raised her hand. “We touched on this in December, and haven’t said two words since, but all in favor of our Mardi Gras strip club crawl, followed by the big-ass bash down at Tee N’ Ay?”

Pierce and Shaundi both raised their hands in agreement. V’s eyebrow rose when his hand didn’t follow suit, but after a minute of watching her face scrunch up in irritation, Johnny raised his too.

“The DJ’s still on for that, right, Pierce?” she asked, once she was satisfied with their answer.

“Hell, yeah. We’ve had people in and out of it for a solid month now, and it’s looking like it did the first day it opened. Now, the sound system’s not up to our usual standard, but by the time we’re done, even the downtown’ll know what’s happening across the bay.”

“That’s just what I want to hear,” she replied, grinning. “That place was getting creaky as hell, and the last thing anyone needs is to fall through the top floor mid-dance onto the stage below. …And the owner’s still not hearing anything about our offer to take it off their hands?”

Pierce shook his head. “Not even a little.”

“Dammit.” She sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “It was worth a shot, at least. Anyway, point number two on the ol’ agenda. Superbowl. Yo, or no?”

Johnny tilted his thumb down, and Shaundi started to aim hers up, but Pierce tucked the heart under his arm and handed V a folder.

Her thumb had started to turn up, but she stopped midway through. “What’s this?”

“You’ve only brought up one of the largest non-holiday related events in the country. Anything less than a binder full of ideas covering this would be lazy. But yeah,” Pierce replied, smoothing out his coat, “I’ve got a few pitches in mind.”

“A few?” She flipped it open and her eyes went wide. “Good lord, Pierce, this is practically alphabetized. We’ve got vastly different definitions of ‘a few’ here.”

“Hey, you give the word, and I’m all-in, boss. I’ll bring in the mock ups and we’ll talk TV deals, maybe even a half-time show-”

“And this?” She held up a photo of a Skeeters announcement and Pierce snatched it away.

“Uh, that’s…that’s a little side project I’ve been working on. Guess it got mixed up with the other papers.”

V looked Johnny’s way, and both flicked their eyebrows up. “Uh-huh.”

“Yeah, uh-huh. But we won’t be getting into that, because we’ve got other things to cover, _remember?_ ”

Her mouth was already halfway to a smirk, but that remark brought it all the way to the surface. “Sure thing, Pierce. We’ll talk your fancy chess club later. Now, on to point number three-“

Johnny crossed his arms and peered at V over the top of his glasses. “Yo, boss. This is all really fucking important and all, but if you’re going to get into this Valentine’s shit, just do it already.”

“I was working on a careful lead up into it, I’ll have you know.”

“And even if you were up there doing a motherfucking dance number, I’d be saying the same thing. Just get it out there so I can sign the fucking papers already. Stamp ‘em. Whatever.”

He watched her face fall, but V puffed herself back up.  “We said we’d get into holidays. I don’t remember you complaining about this whenever we talk Halloween or New Year’s.”

“Halloween’s Halloween. You know that better than anyone, boss. But New Year’s lets me fire missiles off of the roof if I’m feeling it.”

“Uh, I wouldn’t bet on that being such a solid thing anymore, Gat.”

“The hell do you mean by that?”

 “After the blimp incident last year they might not be so keen on that.”

“Blimp?”

“I see you’ve decided to conveniently forget the whole imploding, burning, yelling, and almost crashing it into the Marina bit?” she replied with a wince.

He thought it over for a second when it clicked.

_The entire marina was lit up, ready to call in the new year, and emblazoned in purple. It was missing a few things, but he couldn’t complain. Not with the company he had, and not with the missile launcher resting in his hands._

_“I got this,” he said, aiming the missile at the spot where the skeet was supposed to fly._

_They’d hit every other spectacle that night, going for parties and all the fireworks they could assemble, but when he suggested they come up with another way to top it, V was all over it. Yeah, she was buzzed to hell and back, but skeet shooting was legit. Even with rockets involved._

_He’d hit three in a row already, but he wasn’t going to consider stopping before he hit a solid five._

_V wandered over, her steps unsteady and punched his arm. “You get all of them, and maybe I’ll have to admit that your tendency to blow our problems away is actually useful.”_

_Her grin was hard to catch out of the corner of his eye, but he made sure to return it. “You know you love it.”_

_“Just shoot the damn thing. The suspense is killing me, and the fire department’s starting to get bored.”_

_“Keep your shirt on. Or not. Both work for me.”_

_The large clay disk shot up, and he trailed the shot until he was positive he was ready. The wind picked up just as his finger applied enough pressure to set it off, and it flew. The arc was high, however, and it clipped the disk, spinning out only to make contact with the sparkling purple blimp._

_It ignited in a brilliant blaze, and even he had to squint at it from behind his shades._

“Huh.” He leaned back in his chair as V stared at him intently, and he gave her a shrug.  “They’ll cool off.”

“Jesus, Johnny. A little light property damage is all fine and dandy, but that was a bit much.” She pinched her fingers together, and made a face. “Just a little. So, we’re aiming for a way to celebrate the holiday and get our name out, minus the collateral damage.” Her eyes cut to Pierce. “Care to do the honors, or shall I?”

“Can’t let you have all the fun, boss,” he replied, reaching for the sheet of glossy paper on the poster stand. “Valentine’s is competitive, so we’re already entering into a field that’s a tough nut to crack, but tough ain’t impossible, so we were able to cut a pretty solid deal to make a break into the market.”

V waggled her eyebrows. “And if there’s one thing that brings to mind the kind of warm romantic spirit you can’t do Valentine’s without, it’s these things.”

Pierce flipped to the first slide in his presentation, and Johnny stared at it for a good minute before pointing at the heart-shaped objects on the screen. “That? We’re here about that?”

“Motherfucking chalk-covered bundles of goodness,” V said, sweeping her hands towards them. “Candy hearts are a staple for Valentine’s, but don’t exactly scream ‘Saints’ as they are, so…”

The next poster flew off of the stand, revealing another set of shapes. Fleur-de-lis, or as close as the mold could get to them. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

“She’s totally fucking serious,” Shaundi replied with amusement.

“What? You can’t deny the fleur’s a fun touch, and we’ve actually got a semi-legit business model that’s growing by the day, so we need to keep on finding other ways to break into the market. We’ve got clothes and fragrances, sure. Music, and events, like our monthly Saints bash up at HQ, and our charity drives, but we need to push for things like this, too.”

Johnny kept on staring at her until she aimed her eyes elsewhere.

“And I might actually like these things, okay? I don’t eat them, but they’re cute, and getting to put out our own unique set’s too good of a chance to pass up.”

“Sure thing, boss,” he said, feeling his mouth twist.

“Anyway,” V started, making it a point to avoid looking back at him, “we’ve got our usual tried and true sayings, which we paid a cut to include from the original manufacturer, but we’re still going through our new additions.”

Pierce changed the slide, and a list of bulleted sayings filled the screen. Greetings, pick-up lines, catchphrases, references. Each category had a subcategory, and V and Pierce made sure to point them all out.

Johnny made it through three of them before feeling his eyes glaze over.

This shit had always been more of Eesh’s thing, and sure, he’d bought a fucking dozen or two for her years back, because she loved the damn things so much. But after crunching his way through a box, only a few beers could wash the taste out. Something he wasn’t too keen on repeating.

So, instead of thinking critically about the shit they were proposing, he settled for watching V make air quotes while going through the different phrases.  She drew her fingers through the air as she mimed each saying, and by the time she hit the bottom of the list, he was completely out of touch with whatever the hell was going on.

Not that it really seemed to matter much. He should’ve brought a beer with him. Two beers. Maybe even a magazine, because the last one he got in the mail showed some real promise with the engine rebuilds it was proposing-

“Hey.”

V waved her gloved hand in front of his face, her eyebrows furrowed, and Johnny blinked a few times to clear the haze.

“Yeah?”

“Do you need me to start tossing popcorn or paper airplanes your way, because you’ve been pretty out of it for the last five minutes, man.” She grabbed a heart from the table next to her, and held it up between her fingers. “I was this close to flicking this at you, by the way.”

“Five? That ain’t too bad.”

The candy heart disappeared into her pocket. “It is if I’m looking for your opinion on this.”

“I got the general idea of what you’re going on about, but come on, V. Do I look like the kind of motherfucker that spends his free time thinking about any of this?”

“No, but, come on.” Her shoulders slumped, and when disappointment flashed in her eyes, he sat up straighter. “I got clever puns, show throwbacks, and fake cheesy song lyrics out of these two,” she said, gesturing towards Shaundi and Pierce. “You’ve gotta give me something. I’m not asking for high art here. Just something that’s uniquely…you.”

Shaundi spoke up. “Boss, you know we could always go back to the original idea, right? Set up a suggestion box at Planet Saints, sort through them to pick the winners, and post them. With my show, we could even do a small ad at the end. See if that could drive up interest.”

“That’ll get the word out. Hell, if we’re moving in that direction, why not do the radio too?” Pierce suggested. “Get the boss to do a bit good enough to give the public the basic rundown, and it’ll take off from there.”

“And we air that in one to two minute blocks,” Shaundi added, thinking it over. “That should get us a few rounds on the major stations, and if enough interest is generated we can even try the TV networks.”

“Wait a sec, but I think I might’ve misheard you two.” V pressed her hands to her chest. “Me?”

“Yeah, _you_. Sure Shaundi and I can get on the air, do our thing, and do it well, but you’re the boss. ...Boss.” Pierce laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “And a few words from you can get the crowds going, if we know how to direct it.”

The faces V kept on pulling were getting better by the second. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Johnny chuckled. “What was it you were doing again during that one radio ad for Leather and Lace, boss?” He made a low sound in the back of his throat. “Asking anyone who’s anyone in mood for getting laced up that night to head on over?” His voice went deeper, and sure. Maybe he was taking it a bit far, but her voice rang out all too clearly in his mind. “And maybe if you’re feeling it, you’d do the honors yourself?”

Her face went red in record time. Her hands hit the table, making Pierce jump, and she aimed a look at him caught between livid and mortified. “First of all, kindly shut the fuck up. We don’t need that kind of a refresher. And second, it was a good idea at the time. L and L’s got good stock, and a great selection, and…I might get discounts here and there for being a supporter. So sue me.”

Letting out an uneven breath, she stiffly straightened her posture, but wasn’t anywhere near composed. Gat supposed the smirk he was giving her wasn’t helping, but when she went red like that, he found it hard to stop.

“You’re such a prick. Jesus H., man.” She threw up her hands and turned towards Pierce. “Going to back to your idea, though, fine. I’ll do it, but we’ll keep any and all dramatic readings of this shit to a minimum, got it?”

“Hey, if the people like it-“

“ _Min-i-mum_ ,” V repeated, pointing a finger at Pierce. “I can only be paid so much to look like a fucking dork to our target demographic, and that’s seriously pushing it.”

Johnny snickered. “That’s nothing, boss.”

“I thought I told you to shut up?” She opened her mouth to say something else, peering at him as she mulled it over, but after a second pursed her lips. “…Actually, scratch that. That would get you off of the hook, and you still owe me some phrases, remarks, and suggestions, jerk.”

“Well, maybe I don’t have whatever the fuck it is you’re looking for. I’ve told you once. I think I told you twice. You wanna make me go for three?”

“Then try. _Please._ ”

There was no teasing there. No aggravation, or frustration. Just a request, framed in a way that left him speechless for a good minute.

She paused for a moment, clearly awaiting a response, then crossed her arms before pressing him further. “Well?”

A smile crept across Johnny’s face, and he decided to go for the impossible after all. “If it were up to me, I’d grind them up and see if we could make some funny colored explosive shit. If that’s a no, just slap a knife on one.”

“A knife?”

“What? That ain’t something that’s uniquely me?”

Pierce cringed. “Uh, I don’t think that’ll send the message we’re looking for, man.”

V blinked over at Johnny once. Twice. Then stood up straight as she pressed a hand to her mouth. “…No, Pierce, I think we could work with this. The knife bit, not the latent lethality of a bunch of small objects,” she clarified, waving her other hand. “It’s all in how you spin it. Knife to meet you? You’re a sharp one?” Her own grin started to peek out from behind her fingers, and she batted her eyes as the next words left her mouth. “ _Cutting_ edge? Gather up enough of these and we’ll have a good theme going.”

“Knife puns aren’t exactly what people swoon over, boss.”

“No, but you do have to admit that in terms of suggestions, Johnny’s was on point, Pierce.”

 “…Fine. We’ll throw them in, see how the focus group likes them,” Pierce conceded, “provided you aren’t there to keep throwing suggestions their way. One pun’s all and good, but you can’t just keep on lobbing them, boss.” V started to pout, but Pierce continued before she could. “And don’t forget why we’re bothering with any of this to begin with. We gotta capture and embody the spirit of the holiday all in one neat little package.”

“And the easiest way to do that is to send as sappy a message as you can get. Yeah, yeah.” V used her fingers to frame a heart over her chest. “From the heart, of course.”

The three hummed in approval, and Johnny raised an eyebrow. “So, we good?”

“Sort of.” The room went silent, and she cleared her throat. “Now I know this wasn’t on the agenda,” she said, walking over to her desk, “but I figured I could shoehorn this in. See what you guys’ feelings would be on, oh, say…putting more of the old marketing blitz to some good use?”

The small toy she held up was in their colors, but he’d recognize an O-Ring anywhere. When no one even tried to speak up, V let her gleeful grin do all the talking. “Someone’s apparently not a fan of free funbags.”

Johnny stood up, and went straight for the door.

* * *

V didn’t even give him a minute’s lead before running after him. He heard her boots skid on the floor behind him, and slowed down when he heard her voice carrying down the hallway.

“Johnny? Johnny, hey! Hold on.”

He didn’t stop until she swept in front of him and held up a hand.

“Look, I know it’s bullshit-” Her fingers hooked the back of his shirt when he tried to move past her. “Gat. Give me a chance, here.”

“I gave you five. If you wanted more than that, you should’ve fucking said so.”

Gat began to move again, taking decent strides to pass her again, and she remained in place. “Since when are you so damn literal? Seriously,” she huffed, “I thought this would be a fun detour, not something that’d piss you off.”

“It’s silly, inane shit. Things that you don’t associate with being a motherfucking Saint, okay?” he shot, rounding on her. “Purple candies with our brand on ‘em ain’t exactly sending the message we should be. Going a year or two back we wouldn’t even be fucking talking about this. We’d be dealing with cars, weapons, and tags. Stuff you know I’d back in a heartbeat.”

He lowered his voice and leaned in, making sure they were as close to level as he could get. “But silly shit aside, you’d know if I was pissed off.”

She raised her chin with a smile, but that didn’t do a thing to remove the hesitant look she was giving him. “I know. Just trying to feel me out, huh?”

“You ain’t making it easy, but yeah.”

“All right, I’ll give you that. And I get that we need to keep up the deals and product we’ve established in the past, but I’m not kidding when I say that…that I’m okay with us moving in a more legit direction. You know, putting out more things that might help rather than hurt?” She chewed on her lip, and set her hands on her hips. “And while this is silly, it won’t all be.”

A feeling settled in his gut at her words, but he shook it off. “You’re right it won’t. Long as we remember who we are, and what we do best.”

“Gat, we’ve got construction companies wanting to request our services due to how damn good we are at bringing buildings down. We’ve broken records.”

She sobered up when she caught the dead serious look he was giving her. But he let it slide, chuckling at the memory of the last place they’d been able to trash in full. “But that’s the kind of shit you like. Don’t deny it.” That brought her smile back in full, and he let himself focus on that instead. “What? You trying to?”

V circled him until she was facing his back, and she reached out. Her fingers grazed the thin cotton of his shirt, the contact warm as she slid her hand along his lower back, and he angled his head to get a better look at her over his shoulder.

“No, not exactly. I just want you to think this over a little.” She was playing with the line of the pocket on his jeans now, with her teeth caught on her lower lip, and he followed every motion. “And it’ll help if we ever decide to dip back into the heavier stuff. Like private jets. Helicopters. Light artillery, and the like.”

Johnny rolled his eyes, and while she didn’t see it, he had a feeling she knew. At least enough to roll her own in turn.

“Fine, fine. I won’t keep you here any longer. But if you come up with anything later,” she replied as she stepped away, “you’d better share.”

“Keep it short, and maybe I will.”

She’d skipped most of the way down the hall by that point, but her pout didn’t last. “No promises, Gat. None whatsoever.”

After that she was gone, ducking around the corner leading back to her office.

He waited, staring after her for a second longer than intended, but nothing happened. There was no flash of red. No silly grin as she poked her head back out to add another thing on to her statement. Nothing.

Mildly disappointed, he shoved a hand into his pocket to dig for a cigarette. He’d snagged a pack off of V earlier in the week – a fact she was none too pleased with, but a promise was a promise – and figured she wouldn’t miss a few if he decided to dip into it. Not that the urge hit all that often, but it was digging at him now.

“…The fuck?” A small object was tucked next to it, resting against the crumpled cardboard of the pack. Excess shit wasn’t a thing he made a habit of keeping in his pockets, so he quickly pulled it out to examine it.

Sitting in the middle of his palm was a small purple heart.

He hadn’t reached for the things once during the meeting. So, where did this…?

The short tugs at his jeans pocket. One flick of her fingers, just one stray tap of her nails against the fabric and he was one candy heart 'richer'. No fucking wonder she kept on giving him a smile like that. 

Johnny rolled the candy between his fingers, before pocketing it.

_If you come up with anything later, you’d better share._

_No promises,_ he thought, as he made his way to the nearest shower. _None whatsoever._


	65. What comes after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Follow (Ch. 39). The morning after's a cold one, but at least she isn't alone for long. Set squarely in SR2.

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

V shifted on the couch, but didn’t get up. Tucking her head into her arm, she stared at the worn, brown fabric in front of her, and tried to ignore the warmth of the scarf half-tangled around her.

The sound was harder to tune out.

_Drip_

_Drip_

Lowering her lashes, she inhaled and exhaled slowly, and waited.

_Drip_

She started counting the seconds between them too. She didn’t…didn’t touch a single thing in the kitchen last night, did she?

Only put up a standing offer for awful coffee.

_Drip_

Which Troy seemed set on, and glad to have, even, at least until she-

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

“Motherfucker,” she muttered, climbing to her feet.

One harsh twist of the faucet handle stopped the trickle of water, and when no other sound rang out, she set her hands on the edge of the sink. The rush of blood that came from hopping up way too fast hit slowly, easing in gradually, leaving V’s head bobbing forward as her body caught up to the rest of her.

Her next inhale and exhale came out ragged. Rough, as her teeth caught on her lower lip. That’s when the shiver ran through her. The thin t-shirt wasn’t even half as good of a substitute for a blanket, but that’s what she had. Only that, the couch, and-

She craned her head towards the living room, searching the couch and the floor. Somewhere on her trek to the kitchen, she’d left the scarf trailing after her, discarded somewhere along the way.

Padding over to it, she gingerly picked it up, and wrapped it around her hands. Somehow the damn thing was still warm, and as her grip tightened on it, she felt the chill running through her start to recede. She’d been warm, so warm, not too long ago. Comfortable, even. But now, as she ran her thumbs over the dark blue knit, she wasn’t sure where she stood.

_He was already starting to unwrap it from around his neck, and she froze as he tossed it around hers without a thought, giving one of the ends a simple flip over her shoulder. “Better?”_

V pressed her nose into the fabric, and shut her eyes. Imagined the warm press of hands traveling over her body, with Troy’s rough breaths against her neck sending shivers down her back. How his voice sounded, how she sounded, clutching to him, both desperate for the other.

Then she imagined how she felt after. Standing there alone, with water pooling under her feet.

The scarf hit the wall by the door, and she walked away, her jaw clenched tight.

Her hands were covered in suds when the doorbell rang. The sound nearly made the soaped up coffee mug fly out of her hands, and she scrambled to set it down as she listened closely for a knock. A forceful one.

God, she hoped she wouldn’t hear any. Not now. Not with her like…this. Blinking fast, her head fogged up, hands unsteady - whatever the hell this was.

Because if it was him – and with luck, it would be - Gat would know. He wouldn’t know-know, but she could only bullshit her way through so much, before either laughing it off, or running. And the fact that she was dangerously close to doing the latter no matter who came through the door, hurt the longer she considered it.  

The bell went off again, and she started to approach the front. Three knocks rang out, none of them half as hard as Johnny could manage, and she started to relax.

“Boss? Hey, boss, are you there?”

V’s eyebrows flew up, and she froze in place.

“Hello?” There were two knocks this time, slightly louder, but no more urgent.

Forcing herself to move forward, she undid the deadbolt, and pulled the door open enough to give Carlos an incredulous look.

He quickly lowered his hand, caught mid-knock, and stood up straight. He’d tossed a hoodie on over his usual tank and zipped it up to keep some of the cold out. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself,” she replied, squinting her eyes against the light.

“It’s uh…I tried your phone, but you weren’t picking up.” When she didn’t say anything else, the hopeful look on his face became more bashful. “Which happens, maybe it went dead, or it’s on silent. But I thought you might…maybe you wouldn’t mind breakfast?”

He held up a paper bag.

“You like Apollo’s, right?”

That was when she noticed the coffee. He’d seriously done it. Even after the damn nuclear plant, and her shitty comeback plan.

_“I’ll make a fucking Saint out of you even if it kills me.”_

A dry, bitter taste crept into her mouth, and she turned away as more of her weight came to rest against the door. “…Hey, Carlos?”

“Yeah?”

“You know you can come inside, right? Instead of just freezing your ass off on my front porch?”

It took a second, but he smiled, and it grew when he saw her start to do the same. “Well, I know now.”

“Good, so seriously,” she said, gesturing him forward. “Get in here, before you do.”

V stepped aside to let Carlos come through the doorway, and felt the bite of the air before shutting it out. Still cold, still a touch more miserable than Stilwater usually was around this time of year, and wished she had a jacket. Hell, a proper set of pants would’ve helped, but she was already making a beeline for the kitchen and the mess in the sink she’d left behind.

“Late night?”

Her thumbs swiped at the suds, smearing them across the FUZZ logo stamped on the mug. “Kinda. They’re usually all late.”

Paper rustled behind her, crinkling as Carlos opened the bag, but she didn’t turn to look. Just traced the letters on the mug over and over until she forced it under the faucet.

“There’s two in here for you. The powdered sugar ones.” Her attention went straight to him, and he swore under his breath. “I touched it for a second. Only one. How you can eat two or three of these without covering everything, I don’t understand.”

A white streak marked the cuff of his hoodie as well as the front of it, and she couldn’t help it. She snorted, and ducked her head back towards the dishes. “That sugar’s a menace, man. Not a glitter-grade menace, but bad enough. And Belly Jelly’s? The absolute worst.”

But they were her favorites. And here he was, standing in her kitchen, practically waving two of them at her when he wasn’t avoiding an excess sugar cloud.

“So,” she said, after a minute, shaking the water off of her hands, “something on your mind?”

The bag crinkled, but no reply came.

“Because after our little toxic waste detour, there really should be.”

Carlos sighed, but didn’t shy away from her gaze when she twisted around to look at him. “...You’re not wrong.”

“But what?”

“But I’m not here for that. There’s something going on over by the university. Lots of red trucks have been tearing the grounds up, and even running people down if they don’t watch where they’re going.”

“Sure they aren’t just giving the Samedi shit?”

“There’s that, but I think they’re there for the drugs.”

V’s brows drew together. “Drugs?”

“They’ve been making drugs in a lab by the campus for over a year now, down in Sommerset, undercutting any profits the Samedi are making off of the Loa Dust. And now that we’ve run most of the Samedi off, there’s no one left to slow them down.”

“The hell did you hear that from?”

He shrugged in response, but the excitement in his eyes couldn’t be missed. “You wanted a break, right?”

She couldn’t deny it. Or the eager feeling welling up in her chest. That that was able to cut through the haze was a miracle in and of itself, and she clung to it fiercely.

“Fucking A. Let me…I’m getting on some damn pants.” Her hand shot up as she passed him, and pointed right at him. “Don’t go _anywhere_.”

Shoving the door to her bedroom open, she didn’t bother to close it behind her. Just focused on grabbing for anything resembling a pair of jeans, and slipped on the nearest bra she could find. Her sunglasses followed shortly after, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped the rounded frames on.

Her phone blinked from its position on her nightstand, and when she picked it up, she noticed four missed calls. Two were from Carlos. The fourth was from Johnny – which validated her fears from earlier, though it didn’t seem to be an emergency.

The third came from a number that by now she knew well. Had it nearly memorized, from the odd little place she kept it tucked in her contacts.

Strange. Looking at the blinking message and number now, she almost felt relieved. Pissed, yes. Dejected and lonely, yes, but he’d actually fucking called her.

“Fucking A,” she muttered to herself. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

She pressed an unsteady hand to her mouth, and eyed the messages icon. Worked to steady her breathing as her thumb hovered over the phone’s screen.

“Uh, you good?”

She jumped, nearly losing her grip on the thing, and she shoved the phone in her pocket. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m best I’m looking to be. Just fishing around for a decent pair of pants,” she said, striding out with a smile pasted on her face. “Why?”

“It’s cold out. Maybe you should-“

A blue scarf hung from his open hand as Carlos held it out to her, part of it nearly trailing on the floor by his feet. She yanked it away, her hand gripping it tight enough to hurt, and tossed it towards the couch.

“Not that cold. Come on,” she said, jerking her head towards the door. “A party like that’s not gonna crash itself.”

* * *

When Carlos mentioned red, he meant red.

Sommerset’s entire area was red, inside and out, that fact growing clearer with every truck that passed them by on the road. Not that she expected them to be flying flags high, but the first apartment they rolled up to had two blazing red SUVs parked outside, the tribal patterns dead ringers for their owners.

And the two didn’t waste any time taking down the Brotherhood members left shooting the breeze nearby. Shots rang out, giving them little time to rush up the stairs, and once Carlos singled out the right door, she threw herself against it hard enough to slam it open. Maybe a little harder than intended, but the solid crack of it against the Brotherhood behind it was too damn satisfying to deny.

This was action. This had adrenaline running hot through her veins, burning hotter and hotter with every motion, and she reveled in it.

Carlos stuck close to her back, pushing past her when it became clear that the others were going to start firing, and didn’t hesitate. He fired right at those wearing red and black, giving V only a handful of seconds to contribute herself.

_Bang_

_Bang_

_Bang_

Her teeth were clenched tight, her sunglasses digging into the bridge of her nose, and she briefly cursed the weird orange tint coloring everything. Only two people were left, the two wearing ratty college tees, and not a lick of the Brotherhood’s usual regalia. Their arms shot up when the dust settled, both of them looking close to pissing their pants if they hadn’t already.

V didn’t even get a chance to open her mouth before Carlos approached the two, his gun raised. “Where’s the dust?”

“I don’t-we were just-“

“You think we have the time to fuck around with you here? That she does?”

V’s eyes cut to him, then the two people left quivering in place. Sure, her eyes were covered by her sunglasses, but they were aimed right at them, and they knew it. That did not seem to reassure them at all.

“It’s…it’s a few blocks from here,” the woman replied, quickly, “just head east. Uh, shit. There’s a drop at an apartment east, and another one closer.”

“One, or two?”

“T-two.”

“You positive?” V asked, speaking up. “Cause your memory’s not looking too sharp right now if you ask me.”

“Yes! Yes, there’s two. One to the east closer to campus, and one…one a few streets north. Just, just follow the trucks! They always hang around outside. No one sees them there and actually tries messing with them. Most of the time.”

Carlos looked back at her, but kept his gun trained on them. Her signal was needed here, and he wasn’t going to let up until she confirmed it. When she nodded, he exhaled slowly.

“Look at that? You both got a free pass today, but you find yourself here paying for Brotherhood shit again, and we won’t stop to ask. Got it?” They stared right at him until he snapped, “You got it?”

They traded a look and ran for the door, not even bothering to look back.

V let out a low whistle. “You good?”

Her first guess would’ve been a solid ‘No.’ Tension ran through the set of Carlos’s shoulders, and he angled his head towards the bodies on the floor. “Better than them.”

“True. Lucky for us, they can’t aim worth shit. But you? Are you good?”

He closed his eyes, still looking as serious as she’d ever seen him, and let out a long breath. “Yeah.”

She turned and started heading towards the door. “Good, because now we’ve gotta find our way to apartment number-oh, fuck!”

The Brotherhood recruit bearing down on them was fast, and favored a shotgun, unlike her other friends.

V tried to duck under the edge of the shitty table in the kitchen, only for it to disintegrate under the force of the blast. She couldn’t see Carlos now, but as she skidded across the floor, she shot wildly, hoping she was drawing the majority of the woman’s focus.

One caught the woman’s shoulder, but the shotgun was still trained on her. Still set and ready to tear a hole in her if she couldn’t get up and _move._

One shot went into the floor. The second into the cabinets behind her. That one she didn’t completely dodge as she darted behind the couch in the living room, feeling some of the buckshot tear into the side of her thigh. Now, that, got her swearing.

“Boss! V!”

“Get down!” A chunk of the couch disintegrated as she stumbled behind it, and she fell to the floor. Her leg throbbed between the sharp pangs of pain, and she hoped like hell Carlos wouldn’t fare the same. “Yo, asshat! Aim a little fucking lower, why don’t you!”

“You want them to shoot the shit out of you, boss?”

More voices filled the room, drowning out Carlos’s words and she took a few potshots towards the door. Damn Brotherhood backup. When it rained, it poured. A few more shots followed, nearly emptying her magazine, but the final two bullets were wasted, going wide as she slipped off of the ratty velvet fabric of the couch. 

“V!”

Her shoulder smarted as it hit the floor, but not as much as her pride. “Carlos! Stay with me, man, and get into cover dammit!” she ground out, forcing herself back up.

Another shot tore into the cushions, but a yell rang out shortly after. V’s heart pounded, her blood rushing as she searched her person for anything resembling a spare mag.

“…V?”

Her hands stopped going through her pockets. Only her quick breaths could be heard in the room now, and she slowed those down to hear for the voice again.

“Boss?”

She coughed out a laugh against the back of the couch. “Oh, man. You are a fucking champ, you know that? A real rock star.”

“Says you.” Carlos came around the side of the couch seconds later, roughed up, but not bloody. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, most of my blood’s still in my fucking body, thank Jesus, but we need to move. As in, now. As in, as soon as I can drag my ass up off of this floor and away from this goddamn couch,” she said, trying to get up. Only Carlos’s steadying hand kept her from falling over again. “Fucking A.”

“You know I have you, boss. Would’ve crossed to you sooner, but they didn’t want to let up. Just kept on coming right through the damn door.”

Her grip was tight around his hand, and once she was standing she reluctantly let go. Her leg still hurt enough to distract, the blood staining the hell out of her torn jeans, and she turned her attention towards the dull green of the apartment’s curtains. They were thin, but weren’t any of the satin bullshit that fancier places would’ve opted for.

She whipped out her pocket knife, idly aware of Carlos’s eyes on her, and started cutting a strip of the fabric off. It would make an awful bandage, but it was better covered than left bleeding freely. “Is it bad that I was hoping we’d get lucky on this one and have it be the lab?” She watched Carlos shake his head. “Damn process of elimination. Tell me you aren’t out of ammo.”

“Not anymore.” He held up the discarded shotgun. “They’re not going to use these any longer, so why leave them? Think we might need more than three busted-ass rifles to get the rest, though.”

She tied off the knot around her leg and winced. The smarter part of her agreed wholeheartedly. “Yeah, proper backup’s sounding kinda nice around now, isn’t it? Get a few guys on the line and let ‘em know who we’re tangoing with.”

“And bring more guns?”

She flashed him a thumbs-up.  “Always.”

Proper backup consisted of two newly minted Saints slash college students housing nearby, and one slightly older vet that happened to be in the area. It was surreal to see them run over with their colors mixing with that of Stilwater U, but they fell right in as if this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

With two houses left, either of which could be the lab they were hunting for, Carlos proposed splitting up. She wasn’t keen on that plan at all, but as she watched him interact with and direct the others, she decided to step back. It had been his idea to crash the operation after all. It was only fair to see where he’d keep on taking it.

They parted at the bottom of the stairs on the ground floor, and V shot off a quick salute to Carlos before jumping into the passenger side of her Saint’s car. They peeled out just as he tried returning it, doubt shining through only for a second.

She could only force the worry down and keep on going.

With two locations left, and the Brotherhood hurting, it wasn’t a surprise to see a red truck cut across the lanes on the road to tail them. Bullets blew out the rear windshield, and she craned around the passenger side to start trading fire with them. None of the shots were clear, but a lucky swerve into the right lane sent the truck straight into the back of an idling Komodo, leaving them a clear enough path to zip ahead.

The kid she was with tried to keep it steady, but by the time they rolled up to yet more fire, she could see the tremors in his hands.

_He’s practically your age and not a fucking kid,_ she thought, chiding herself, _but they’re too young for this shit. All of them. Even-_

The Saint whooped when the Brotherhood recruit on the stairs took a hit and fell off of the balcony above.

“Two points! You ready, boss?”

She stood there, silent for close to a minute before raising her borrowed shotgun. “Stick close, champ. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

* * *

This time around there was no unnecessary tango indoors. They met most of their resistance right on the balcony, ducking around the doorway as they shot through the windows.

It was a relief. That, and the fact that her green-ish Saint, Kahn, was still kicking and cheerful once all was said and done. What wasn’t, was the fact that this apartment, much like the last, was clear of any and all equipment needed to produce any kinds of drugs at all, let alone Loa Dust.  

She puffed away at a cigarette, caught between irritated and baffled. What were they missing?

_There’s a drop at an apartment east, and another one closer-_

A drop? Shit. It was coming from elsewhere.

She pulled up Carlos’s number, pacing in place, and waited. “Pick up, Carlos. Pick up!” Smoke clouded her vision as her cigarette dwindled down to ashes, but still nothing. “Fuck!”

_“Would you like to leave a message?”_

She ran for the stairs. 

“Uh, boss? Where are you…? Hey! Wait!”

Kahn had the keys, so she yelled over her shoulder for him to follow. She kept on calling as she climbed into the passenger seat, and gestured roughly towards the other apartment’s location.

They were on the road when Carlos finally answered. _“Things aren’t exactly calm enough to talk over here, boss!”_

“No shit!” Gunfire, and lots of it, echoed through the receiver. “What happened?”

_“A truck tried to roll up on us while we were pulling up to the apartment, but tore out. It was covered in purple and red shit, but someone starting yelling about protecting it. We took off right after it, and now-“_ A sharp screech rang out, and Carlos rattled off a few words to the others in the vehicle before coming back to her. “ _We’re either going to blow right on through, or crash into the university with the way they’re driving. The truck’s not showing any signs of stopping."_

“They mentioned a drop earlier. That’s gotta be the truck holding the dust! Don’t let up, even for a damn second! We’ll be there soon.”

_“Soon better be soon! Our fucking tires can’t keep this up!”_

The car was pushing as hard as it could, model be damned, and if Kahn put his foot down any harder it’d go straight through the floorboards. They had to catch up. They also needed to find them to begin with, and made a bee-line for the University.

A large purple truck. A large purple _and red_ truck. You’d figure she’d have an affinity for the thing, considering the colors it favored, but even as she shoved her sunglasses up and out of her face, she saw nothing. Only the usual dirt and junk that accumulated on the edges of the street.

As they neared the campus itself, however, a stark black skidmark slashed across the pavement, followed by scattered pieces of metal. There was no sign of a smashed vehicle, or a pair of people standing off to the side nearby screaming at each other over a collision, so maybe, just maybe that was it.

Kahn pulled at the neck of his sweatshirt, and for the first time that day looked nervous. “Boss? Do you hear those horns?”

She listened for them, and sure enough, heard a short string of sounds that could’ve been a car horn. “Good ear. …Is it just me, though, or are they getting louder?”

“They’re getting louder.”

They roared through a light as the sound grew in volume, and Kahn’s grip on the wheel went tight.

“Truck. Truck!”

V slapped at Kahn’s shoulder.

“Kahn! Truck!”

The car spun to the right as he put it into motion, skidding out of the truck’s path as it barreled past them. She watched as the truck disappeared out of sight – smoking heavily – followed by a beat to hell car.

That’s when the full tilt of the spin hit. V wasn’t sure who started yelling, but the two didn’t stop, losing all sense of their location in space until it all came to a crashing stop.

Things fell out of focus for a few seconds, her vision fuzzy as she kept on blinking over and over. Her cigarette was long gone, having flown out of her mouth mid-warning, but she’d light another if she needed it. The center console felt cool under her arms, half of her upper body draped over it, and she dug her fingers into the fabric as she dragged herself up.

“Yo. Yo, uh, K?” Her tongue wet her lips only to taste blood. “You good, man?”

He didn’t answer. She craned her head towards him, only to see him staring ahead, slack-jawed and silent. His nosebleed was bad, but it didn’t look like his nose was broken. Dots of red stood out against the grey of his sweatshirt, and the longer she stared at it, the more it perplexed her.

Her hand gingerly reached up to adjust her sunglasses only to come into contact with the bridge of her nose. That explained the return to glorious technicolor.

She groped for the glasses on the floorboards while addressing Kahn again. “Kahn?” Still nothing. “Come back to me, man. Hey!” This time he snapped awake, looking blearily over at her. “Can you drive?”

He nodded, but that didn’t stop his arms from quaking.

“Kahn! Can you?”

His foot hit the gas, and they roared back into motion. They were more than a few beats behind now, but they’d catch up. At this speed it’d take a minute tops, provided the others were giving them as much shit as she suspected they were.

Sure enough, when the mess ahead came into view again, the truck couldn’t shake the car behind it. It’d sway, it’d cut directly into oncoming traffic, but none of it even phased the car ahead, even as pieces of it rattled, snapped, and broke off in the process.

“Jesus, Carlos,” she laughed, getting her gun out. “The whole thing’s falling apart and he’s still on them like a cheap-ass suit.” She turned to Kahn. “Think you can take us in a little closer?”

He nodded, his entire posture relaxing back into what she saw at the apartments. “I can do closer.”

Closer would help with her aim, which while decent under regular conditions and distances, was completely up for debate while leaning out of a car’s window. She shot for the tires, holding off when Carlos’s car swerved in front of her, and wasn’t sure how many she wasted in the process. The entire surface of the truck was pockmarked by now, but it was something, and as Kahn kept on gunning it, she hoped they’d find a way to pull in front.

Either the tires had to go or the driver did. If she’d been the only one in the car she’d also have tried side-swiping the damn thing; hijacking had been her thing after all, but only when alone.

Her own safety she could handwave. Someone else’s? Non-fucking-negotiable.

Still, Kahn seemed to be reading her mind as he drove in closer and spun the wheel. She ducked back inside, nearly losing her gun in the process, and the impact shook the entire frame of the car.

“Holy hell, man!” He swerved again, and she swore louder. “Hey! Cool it! Just cause I would, doesn’t mean you should-“

The truck cut sharply to the right and Kahn hit the brakes. Planting her boot on the dash, V grabbed for anything that could anchor her short of the actual seat belt, grinding down on her teeth as they screeched to a halt.

Carlos, however, didn’t stop. His car sped after the truck, running it down as it cut through a row of bushes.

V kicked open the car door, stumbling over her own feet in the process, and broke into a run. Pain shot through her leg as a result, but she couldn’t let it slow her down. Kahn was hot on her heels, both of them packing as they ran up on the vehicle to join the others.

It was all over after that.

The driver made a break for it, all but saying “Fuck this” in response to the heat placed upon him. After making sure he was gone, Carlos put in a call to a friend that wouldn’t mind towing this particular truck to a Saints safe house, and the five booked it once it was clear after that. The cops hadn’t found them yet, but after their recent destructive streak they would be searching. Lord knows they would be, and the sooner they were off the street the better.

And she did not need to see blue right now. Not in that degree or dose.

The five piled out of Kahn’s shot-up car at the designated location, still high off of adrenaline, and only when the doors to the mechanic closed behind them, did they really think about what they’d just pulled off. And one confirmation call later – the truck safely stashed at a location far, far away from any traces of Brotherhood activity – she knew for sure.

This was theirs. Their victory. Their next step towards something solid instead of lashing out in the hopes of fucking something up. Anything.

V lit another cigarette, and after fiddling with the ragged bandage around her leg gave everyone within range a small punch to the arm as they settled in. They’d more than earned their colors with the work they put in today, and she was glad to still have them at the end of it.

When she got to Carlos, he was standing over by one of the cars being worked on, looking pensive. She gave him a good old tap on the shoulder, but held out her hand afterwards, palm face up.

“Guess who’s made of certified awesome right now?”

“Did you see our car?” The high-five was a decent one, and left a hint of a sting in its wake. “That’s the real winner.”

“But who kept it running? I might have to ask for some lessons after a show like that.”

He rolled his eyes, but a smile crept through. “Yeah right, boss. With what you used to do? They had a name for it back then.”

“Yeah? Just one?”

“Luis had one. Or two.” His next few words were in Spanish, and her high school credits had no hope of helping her translate that. “Chaos on wheels. Rolling doom. Vehicular despair.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious. …Maybe not about the last one, but I don’t think there’s much I can do to help.”

She took a long drag off of her cigarette. “I made a career out of crashing myself into shit. Anything you’ve got I’ll gladly take.”

“That’s…” He looked away for a second and cleared his throat. “One thing I’ll say, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Try bigger cars?”

She choked on cigarette smoke as she hiccoughed, and tried like hell not to laugh. That would not help her in the slightest right now. “That’s low.”

“You asked,” he replied, not even trying to shy away from her amused look this time around. “How could that hurt?”

“It’d break my poor heart into a billion pieces. I just can’t do reasonably-sized cars, hon. Goes against everything I stand for. Or sit for.” She wrinkled her nose. “You get the idea.”

They both settled into silence after that. Carlos watched her for a few seconds, before looking past her, and V slid her hands back into the pockets of her hoodie. The half-empty cigarette packet in her pocket crinkled when she wrapped her fingers around it, making her want to draw it out again, but this cigarette was hardly gone, and she was not going to attempt smoking two in front of Carlos.

“Tell me this, though.  Are you going to keep them on?”

Her eyes cut to the others, raising their beers as they celebrated, while sharing their stories with the other Saints gathered inside. Carlos followed her gaze, amused still, but it didn’t take long for his own expression to grow serious.  

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Thinking, or just…?”

“Thinking. Would you?”

“It’s your crew, man. That’s your call, not mine.” V inhaled deeply, angling her head to the side as she exhaled. He didn’t look back at her, not this time, and she pursed her lips. “Meet me outside after?”

“Yeah. I won’t be long.”

She stepped back, keeping herself angled towards him for the first few steps until she had no choice but to turn away.

* * *

The pack was empty by the time he made it outside to her. She leaned against the side of an Ant that had seen better days, messing around with her lighter, and flicked at it even when she managed to get a proper spark.

“So, I was thinking, once the truck’s been given a major face-lift, and we’re certain we won’t trash the damn thing, you can decide what we should do with it.”

Carlos came to an immediate stop. “What?”

“Your tip, your call. Seems only fair. You want to keep it distributing in Sommerset? Done. You want to move it to another area? Also done. You want it shut down, or set up somewhere permanent? …Done. Give the order, and I’ll put guys on it asap.”

“If I said to scrap it, you would?”

“What we have now is one less thing that Maero gets to fuck around with. Yeah, we’d lose out on another way to corner more of the drug market, but we salt and burn that shit and their loss is still our gain. Like I said, your call. I’ll trust your judgment there."

He walked up beside her, eyes on the ground as he thought it over, and he shook his head. “We can’t lose that. Not after everything.”

“All right.” She stood up and straightened her posture. “Tell me who you want posted on it, and what product we want to run through it, and we’ll start going over times and locations.”

“Just like that?”

“just like that, but think it over a bit. Yeah, we’re eager, but there’s no need to rush any of this.”

“The hole’s going to fill if we leave a gap too long, though.”

“We can take the time to plan this out. And after the last few things I’ve done, maybe it’s damn near time I, you know, sat my ass down and tried to advocate a means that didn’t involve busting into places and setting it on fire like an asshole.”

“No joke?” Carlos cracked, eying her.

“No joke. I mean, it gets certain points across, but it’s not subtle. Not even remotely. And I don’t, I really don’t want any of you to…” She let the words trail off, and bit at her lip even with her cigarette still in her mouth. “Don’t be a dumbass like me, is what I think I’m trying to say. Please don’t.”

_And? What else?_

“And Carlos?” she said, speaking up before he could reply. “The other day I said some shit. Really awful shit that didn’t need saying, and you-you didn’t deserve that.”

The joking tilt of his mouth faded into a thin line. “What if I needed it?”

“No one needs that, Carlos. No one.” She wet her lips, and much as she wanted to keep her eyes on her boots, she forced herself to look right at him. “You’ve busted your ass for us – for me – since day one. I can’t ask for any more than that.”

“But I can do better,” he replied. “I should’ve been ever since Maero offered us that deal. It’s been months and we don’t even have a quarter of what the Brotherhood claims is theirs. We’ve hit a few of their places, but it’s not enough-“

“Hey, fuck the Brotherhood, and fuck what I said. I can’t make you into jack-shit. Only you,” she said, pointing at him, “can make you what you want to be. Not what you think you should be, or what others think you should be. What you honestly want to be.”

_You. What you want. Not what anyone else wants._

“When I first joined, someone…a lot of people had my back. Even though I kept on rushing in like an idiot, they never stopped trying. Your brother was one of them. And I’m not the best person, or hell, maybe even the right person to offer this, but I wanted and still want you to have that too. Someone that’ll let you know that everything’s okay. That you’re not fucking up as majorly as you keep on thinking you are.”

Carlos didn’t look at her. Only kept his attention on a spot somewhere off to her left, and V stepped forward, setting her sunglasses on top of her head before resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I failed that last bit. I failed it hard, but you’re a fucking Saint. A _Saint_ , you got that? You were the minute you started flying our colors. Not because of Luis, or the fact you busted me out, or out of pity. Because of _you_. And without you, we wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be here right now. Not even close. Please don’t forget that.”

V’s arm fell back to her side, her fingers clenched tight, and when Carlos still didn’t look at her, she tamped down hard on the urge to reach out for him again.

“Too little, too late, eh?”

“For a motivational pep-talk? Kind of.”

“But?”

He reached up to tug at the back of his beanie, and gave her a sheepish look. “I know you’ve got me. It’s…what you do, right?”

“It’s-” V’s throat tightened, and she wished like hell he wasn’t looking at her like he was right now. “Of course, it’s what I do, but… Dammit, I’m fucking this up,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, there’s things that I’ll do as a boss, and yeah, you bet I’m going to keep an eye on my crew. Because you’ve gotta be decent to your people. You owe them that much. But I’m not coming at this like that. Not out of obligation, or as a fucking chore, because someone’s got to keep on all of these damn kids running around.”

This time Carlos chuckled.

“I’m doing this, because, I uh…” V felt the words still in her mouth, and let out a long sigh. “I swear I’ll stop putting my foot in my mouth soon, I promise. I’d really like for us to be friends. Just in case you were worried that ranking put a major cramp in that, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. And, uh, of all the mornings I needed a friend the most, this one-this one was it.”

Carlos’s expression changed immediately, and she worked to keep her entire body from tensing.

“It was bad. Real fucking bad, and I’m sure you knew that, but…even though I was far from pleasant, you didn’t leave. You stayed, and tried to put a damn smile on my face, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Wrapping her arms around herself, she regarded him for a few seconds – concerned, and hesitant all in one – and chuckled. It was short and brittle, but that was all she could manage right now.

“So, yeah. If I can even repay half of that, I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” she said, without hesitation. “Anything you want, you got it.”

He kept on looking at her, right at her, not through, and didn’t remember when she’d started holding her breath. Only noticed it the minute the air started burning in her lungs. “Food.”

She coughed. “What?”

“We’ve been out here doing this for hours. So, I think we should hit the nearest drive thru and take it easy for a while.”

“Like a burger and fries kind of break?”

“Or gyros and pizza. If that’s more your thing than Apollos?”

V balked at him. He was not giving her priority here. No fucking way. “Hey, this is about you. Not me, okay? So, if you want a damn burger, we’re getting you a burger.”

“With double fries and a milkshake?”

“With a motherfucking cherry on top.”

He laughed, grinning brightly, and she wished she’d earned it. Every damn second of it. “Deal.”

The gravel crunched under their feet as they wandered back to Carlos’s car, and V let the distance grow between them as she flipped her sunglasses back down onto her nose. With everything cast in orange again, she let her breathing calm, and counted to thirty before reaching for the phone waiting in her pocket.

Carlos was roughly ten paces in front of her, so he wouldn’t notice if she looked. Or care much if she started fiddling with it, honestly. She got messages at all hours of the day. It wasn’t strange to check. It really, really wasn’t.

Flipping it over in her hand, she glanced at it, and considered the message waiting for her. The same one she’d had since the morning.

With three clicks, it was gone.


End file.
